Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Times
by RichardJ
Summary: Katniss and Cato escape the 74th Hunger Games arena and make a new life together in District Eight. Their love and passion is put to the test by the growing unrest in the district. An unexpected visitor means Katniss and Cato's new life will be changed forever. A sequel to Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Waters but can be read as a standalone series (6/7 part stories).
1. 1-1 Keep her safe

Suzanne Collins is acknowledged as the creator of the Hunger Games characters and story.

This series of 6 or 7 part stories is a sequel to _Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Waters_ s/10188003/1/ but can also be read as a standalone series.

Episode 1: Adversity

1.1: Keep her safe.

It is mid-winter. Fuel for heating is scarce and everyone here in District Eight is struggling to keep warm. The new peacekeepers mercilessly punish anyone caught foraging for firewood. Even so, many risk it. Cato among them. He refuses to let me share the risk "in my condition". That doesn't stop me worrying about his safety every time he goes foraging immediately after we finish work at the factory where we work. Besides, being pregnant isn't a disease; I can still function perfectly normally.

Six months have elapsed since Cato, Clove, Rue, Finch and I escaped from the 74th Hunger Games arena. We had help, of course. Sarah and her colleagues from Le Chat Noir made our escape possible and convinced the Gamemakers the five of us had died. That left my fellow tribute from District Twelve, Peeta Mellark, to be crowned the victor. We went our separate ways once Sarah got us away from the arena. Clove went to District Thirteen, while Finch and Rue joined the free settlers living in the frozen lands to the north of Panem's borders. Cato and I decided to remain in Panem. We have made a new life together here in District Eight using the false identities provided by one of Sarah's colleagues. Sarah presumably returned to creating virtual reality worlds for wealthy clients to play out their fantasies without leaving the comforts of the Capitol. It was her expertise in creating and operating these imaginary worlds that enabled her to make the virtual Hunger Games arena where Cato and I supposedly died.

Sarah was helping us for her own interests as much as ours. President Snow wants her to secretly build virtual arenas for future Hunger Games to avoid the huge cost of building real arenas. Unknown to all but a handful of people, the final stages of the 74th Hunger Games were played out in a hastily constructed virtual arena which proved the concept could work. Our survival is only due to Sarah disobeying the Gamemakers orders to have defeated tributes executed in the chamber where our real selves were placed. I don't know if the 75th Hunger Games will be played out in a virtual arena or not. Cato and I are probably the only people outside the Capitol who know such a possibility exists.

I haven't heard from Sarah since our escape, particularly after I turned down her offer to work at Le Chat Noir. Which makes the note pushed under our front door all the more surprising. The note is on the back of a business card from Le Chat Noir. A plain piece of card with a motif of a seated black cat on one side. No name; no address; no contact details. The note isn't addressed to anyone and it isn't signed, but the black cat motif and reference to the numbers, the significance of which only Sarah, Clove and I know, leaves me in no doubt it comes from Sarah. As usual her message is cryptic … another clue about the source and that the message is genuine. 'Expect Nadia. Keep her safe. 28-75-16.' I don't know anybody called Nadia and I haven't heard Sarah talk about anyone with that name.

Unfortunately I have more immediate concerns. The growing insurgency in the districts has not gone unnoticed by those in power. Ruthless purges have followed. Almost the entire peacekeeper force in District Eight has been replaced by what can only be described as a band of legalised thugs. Over the last month, several people prominent in the underground movement have been arrested. None have been seen since. Cato and I have scaled back our involvement in the movement until the peacekeepers ease off their hunt for suspects. Some of those fearing arrest have gone into hiding. Information about people's movements is only shared on a need-to-know basis to minimise the damage should someone be arrested. Rumours say the torture and truth drugs applied to an arrested suspect are beyond the means of any normal person to resist.

I breathe a sigh of relief when Cato finally returns with enough wood to last for a few days. It is nearly nine o'clock when he arrives home. Despite his best efforts, his normal calm and confident manner has clearly been shaken. I suspect he has had a close call and only narrowly escaped arrest. I know better than to push him for an explanation until he is ready.

"The peacekeepers are out in force tonight," he volunteers by way of excuse for his later than expected return.

"Do you think we should leave here and hide in the woods until things quieten down?" I ask Cato later, when we are together in bed.

"No. It will attract the peacekeepers attention. I don't think things are that bad just yet. Besides, living in the woods in the depths of winter is just as dangerous. From the information I can gather the peacekeepers are simply doing what they do every year. They are clearing out any potential troublemakers ahead of the Hunger Games Victor's Tour. Peeta will begin his tour in a few weeks. … Now, enough conversation about all the troubles. This is our private time."

Cato is a stickler for rules about our time together. Not talking about worldly problems while we are in bed is one of them. My feelings towards his rules have evolved over the last six months from mild amusement to slight irritation to general acceptance. Not that I necessarily obey his rules, nor does he expect it of me. My obedience or disobedience to his rules merely determines what games we play while we are alone. Sometimes I think he creates new rules just to make up new games to play.

By any girl's definition Cato is strong, muscular and extremely desirable. Outwardly he is arrogant and only too happy to display his charms to any passing female his age … and a few who aren't. At first I worried our relationship wouldn't last. More than once I caught his roving eyes watching some well endowed young woman encouraging his attention. I felt inadequate in the feminine attributes department. But Cato has only strayed with his eyes and over the months I've come to know him better. I gradually realised his outward display is simply for show. The real Cato is a lot more caring and thoughtful … and incredibly hot!

The fact we are still together has nothing to do with the two obvious reasons we should be together. You may think our union is essential to ensure we each keep the secret about our real identities. That Catlin and Katherine are who our false identity papers say we are, and any similarity in appearance to two deceased tributes from the 74th Hunger Games is purely coincidental. But we don't need to be together to keep our secret. I trust Cato, and Cato trusts me, without reservation.

Nor do we stay together because of the second obvious reason … because our baby is growing inside me. On the contrary, Cato has more than once tried to persuade me to contact Sarah in the Capitol and belatedly accept her offer to work with her at Le Chat Noir. He has this notion that I would be safer and better looked after in the Capitol, even though Cato couldn't be with me. I've refused point blank to consider such a course of action and reminded him of the vows we privately exchanged.

So why do we stay together? We aren't married … at least not in the legal sense. Our false identification papers may not stand up to the rigorous examination they will receive before the legal authorities approve a wedding. Nor do we stay together for mutual protection. We have each proved ourselves capable of looking after ourself on numerous occasions. Indeed, being together increases the risk of our true identities being discovered. The potential fallout from that discovery would be widespread and deadly.

The answer is simple. We need each other at a more primal level. Cato and I have what can only be described as a very physical relationship. Cato satisfies a hunger inside me I didn't know I previously had, and he seems more than satisfied with my efforts to reciprocate the pleasure. Before I met Cato I would often think about being intimate with a boy … so often I began to wonder if I was normal. My journey of discovery with Cato has taken both of us to new levels of ecstasy. I can no longer bear waking up in the morning without Cato's warmth beside me. Nor do I feel ready to get out of bed until our morning ritual of 'waking the beast' is complete. And once woken, the beast needs to find a warm and welcoming cave in which to burrow. I suppose you could say we love each other, but my feelings towards Cato aren't what I imagined being in love would feel like. It's as though Cato and I are a single being.

Today is Sunday. It's the one day in the week we don't need to go to work at the nearby factory. I'm busy reviving the beast for a third time when we are disturbed by a light knocking at our front door. We could easily ignore it, but some sixth sense tells me I should see who it is. Cato clearly doesn't agree but nevertheless allows me to untangle myself from his body and put on my rarely used nightdress. I open the front door to find a tall blond haired girl about my age standing on the step.

"Hi. I'm Nadia. I believe you are expecting me."


	2. 1-2 I'm ready to help you

1.2: I'm ready to help you.

"Um … Er … Yes. Come in," I mumble in my surprise. "We only received word yesterday that you were coming."

I show Nadia into our small living room. Her hairstyle and clothes mark her as someone from the Capitol. However, she looks and smells as though she's spent the last few nights sleeping rough. Her small backpack can't contain many possessions. It's not the first time Cato and I have had unexpected guests fleeing from the peacekeepers. Cato and my work with the underground resistance movement has meant our house has been used as a safe house from time to time.

"Thank you," replies Nadia. "You have a nice home. It's so good of you to shelter me in my time of need."

"The house isn't very big, but we do our best to make it a home. We shall try to make you as comfortable as possible while you are with us. We don't have a spare bedroom, so it will mean you sleeping on the couch."

By now Cato has quickly dressed and joined us. I introduce him to Nadia.

"We don't normally have someone so young to hide from the peacekeepers," says Cato. "Have you any family nearby?"

"No. I don't remember my parents. My sisters are a long way from here and as far as I know are safe … at least for the time being."

"Enough questions for now," I interrupt Cato before he launches into a full inquisition. "I'll show you to the bathroom, Nadia, so you can freshen up and change into some clean clothes. Do you need any clothing?"

"Thanks. I have most of what I need in my bag. But could a borrow a towel? I really need a good wash. I must smell awful."

"I'll find you a towel. I'm sorry but the shortage of fuel means there's no hot water until this evening. I'll make you some breakfast while you clean up."

"Thanks. But I've already had breakfast. And a cold wash will be fine."

From the look of her I doubt she has had anything to eat recently, but I'm not going to force feed her. I return to our bedroom and get dressed before rejoining Cato in the kitchen.

"She looks familiar," whispers Cato to me as we prepare ourselves some breakfast. "I can't help feeling we've met her before. Or perhaps one of her sisters."

"Her sister? Yes! You're brilliant! I thought there was something about her I recognised. I'll ask Nadia when we question her some more. We need to find out what we are supposed to do to help her. We can't hide her here for more than a few days. The neighbours will notice and start gossiping. Before long the peacekeepers will hear the rumours and come to investigate."

We have always followed the underground movement's rules about moving those we are helping onto another safe house within 48 hours. After 48 hours we are required to register the names of any guests staying with us. Something which could bring the peacekeepers to our door in no time. Most of our neighbours are reliable and wouldn't knowingly betray us. Unfortunately, the constantly changing population which helped disguise Cato and my arrival can also mask the arrival of a peacekeeper spy.

We have almost finished breakfast by the time Nadia joins us. She has changed into a different dress and looks a lot cleaner after her shower. In fact, she looks very attractive. Something Cato doesn't fail to notice and I have to give him a nudge before he starts drooling. Nadia again refuses the offer of food.

"Thanks for taking me in and letting me freshen up first," says Nadia. "I'm sure you have lots of questions to ask me. So to save time, why don't I tell you what I think you want to know."

"Um … OK," replies Cato, clearly taken off guard by Nadia's forthright suggestion. I too am caught unprepared and simply nod in agreement.

"Firstly, I know Catlin and Katherine aren't your real names. You are Cato and Katniss. My sister Ariadne was one of the team who created the virtual Hunger Games arena where you were supposedly killed. She remembers you even if you don't remember her. Ariadne advised me to make a secret plan to escape the Capitol when the government started to militarise the programme to create a virtual arena for the 75th Hunger Games. It was Ariadne's stories of you that made be decide to come here.

"The next games will be the third Quarter Quell. President Snow has something extra special planned, although I've no idea what at the moment. I don't know if Sarah or any of her team will be in control of making the virtual arena for much longer. When the military placed us all under house arrest, Sarah instructed us to put our individual contingency plans into action if we had the opportunity … so here I am. I'm ready to help you in any way that I can."

"Help us with what?" Cato and I ask in unison.

"Overthrow President Snow's regime. It's now or never. If the military gain control over the ARIEs then they gain the means to destroy anyone who opposes them. Even President Snow can't realise the risk he is putting everyone in by allowing the military access to the ARIEs again. Last time they had control of the ARIEs, over a billion people died in the resulting wars. Many more died later from the after effects. They … "

"Wait. Wait, Nadia. You're going too fast for me," I interrupt Nadia's story. "What is an Aries?"

"A.R.I.E. Artificial Reproducing Intelligent Environment. An ARIE is a supercomputer which creates the virtual worlds produced at Le Chat Noir. One created and operated the Hunger Games arena you were inside. The ARIEs were first created hundreds of years ago for peaceful purposes. To manage the worldwide production and distribution of food and power. But the military took over and turned the ARIEs into weapons of war capable of overpowering any army's defences. All the ARIEs were supposed to have been destroyed after the last of the great wars, but three countries each secretly kept one hidden. Then, over the next few generations, everyone forgot all about them. Until now."

"Then how did Le Chat Noir come to have one?" asks Cato.

"Le Chat Noir had three ARIEs. The Panem military now has control of one of them, the other two are being hidden. Everyone involved with Le Chat Noir who hasn't already fled the Capitol has been placed under arrest. Sarah is under close guard and can't do much to help us. We must recover the ARIE the military holds before they turn it against the people of Panem. We have a few months while they work on the virtual arena for the 75th Hunger Games. After that anything can happen."

"I still don't understand how all three ARIEs ended up in Sarah's possession," persists Cato.

"There are no longer just three ARIEs. An ARIE can reproduce, although the physical process is different from how humans reproduce. I don't know how many ARIEs there are in existence now, but all the ARIEs in Panem descend from the one the old United States military hid. Sarah was part of a university research group who discovered the original ARIE was hidden inside a disused network of caverns in District Two. She was the only one brave enough to go and look for it … and found there are now three ARIEs."

"I still don't see what we can do," I say. "Support for an uprising is growing but isn't strong enough to risk open conflict. The peacekeepers have arrested many of the resistance movement's leaders and most of the others have fled."

"That's why I'm here," says Nadia. "To help you rebuild the resistance movement and fight for our freedom."

"While I admire your enthusiasm," I reply, "we are hardly in a position to turn ourselves into public figures. If anyone realises who we really are then not only Cato and I, but many others … your sister included … are in grave danger. Besides, neither of us knows anything about leading people."

"Then let others take on the leadership roles," persists Nadia. "But you must do something … and soon."


	3. 1-3 Conducting subversive activities

1.3: Conducting subversive activities

I can't say I'm happy about the prospect of an attractive girl being camped in our living room for an unknown length of time. While I trust Cato with my life, his roving eyes leave me less sure of his commitment to a one-man one-woman relationship. I can't help feeling Nadia's presence is putting temptation in his way. The dozen or so people we have previously hidden have stayed only one or two nights before moving on to wherever they are going. In Nadia's case our house is her destination not an overnight stop.

To be fair to Nadia she has done nothing to encourage Cato's attentions, nor has he done more than admire Nadia when he thinks she isn't looking. I suppose I've been just as guilty of admiring her natural beauty. Nadia caught me looking at her earlier and smiled at me in the way Clove used to smile when she thought there was a chance of seducing me. Not that Clove ever succeeded in that mission, but my time with her made me reassess my attitude towards amorous encounters with another girl.

The rest of the morning is taken up with making arrangements for Nadia's stay with us. While I prepare things for Nadia, Cato goes about his usual Sunday morning activities. By tradition, an unofficial market is held every Sunday in the town square. Any resident can exchange their unwanted goods for something else. The trading laws only allow goods to be bartered, so few professional traders bother to attend the Sunday market. It's a chance to pick up a bargain or two and Cato usually spends some time there.

"Before I go to work tomorrow we will need to register you as our lodger with the neighbourhood warden," I say to Nadia. "If we don't, and someone reports that you are staying with us, then we could all be arrested on suspicion of conducting subversive activities."

Anyone staying for more than two nights at someone's house must be officially registered in the neighbourhood residence records. Fortunately Nadia says her identification papers are in order. I'm fairly sure they are false, but they probably come from the same source that provided Cato and my false identities. The neighbourhood warden is a kindly old woman who lives just down our street. She's paid a pittance by the local authorities to maintain the neighbourhood residence records; a list of who is living in our immediate area. Originally the records were kept to help check everyone is safe in the event of a fire. In recent years, however, the residence records have been used by the peacekeepers to monitor the movements of suspected troublemakers.

"Yes, alright," replies Nadia. "After that I will see about getting a job. People will become suspicious if I don't work. Besides, I need to pay my way. I don't expect you and Cato to support me."

One unexpected benefit of Nadia staying with us is the money she has offered to pay us for her keep. Cato and I know that within the next year, once our baby is old enough to need a room of his or her own, we will need to find a larger house to rent. This single bedroom house is alright for now, but is too small for a growing family. Nadia's rent money could give us some extra cash to tide us over until I can resume work after our baby is born.

"I can introduce you to the foreman at the factory where Cato and I work, if you like. The factory is always in need of more workers."

"That won't be necessary, but thanks," replies Nadia. "I'm more suited to clerical work. Besides, a clerical job will give me access to people you and Cato don't meet during working hours. Between us we can cover more contacts if we work in different places."

I see the sense in what she is saying and can only hope she has the qualifications to get the job she wants. Somehow I suspect she has, but I don't know if they are genuine or not. False qualifications might get her a clerical job, but keeping the job will depend on her being able to do what is expected of her.

I clear a drawer for Nadia's meagre set of clothing. I offer to lend her some of my clothes, but she is taller than I and none would fit her. She says she will buy some more clothes once she is earning some money. I help her unpack her bag and show her where we keep our food and other items in case she needs something while Cato and I are at work. I interrupt our activities to change into a dress. Nadia looks at me with a smile as though she knows what my change of clothing signifies. Cato is due to return from the Sunday market at any moment.

A couple of months ago Cato created a new rule that I should be wearing a dress when he arrives home from the market. It's one of the few rules I always obey because I know what treat will follow. Unfortunately, with Nadia here with us, my treat will have to wait … unless Cato has other ideas. It's not as though he and I haven't made out in front of onlookers before, but I'm not certain how Nadia would react.

Cato arrives home looking very pleased with himself and his welcoming embrace leaves me in no doubt what awaits me later … or perhaps sooner. Over the weeks Cato has managed to make several trades for goods of greater value. This means his near worthless pair of old boots have now transformed, through several trades, into the intricately carved box he has acquired today.

"It's a beautiful box," I say while I'm sat on Cato's knee. I am trying my best to block Nadia's view of where Cato's right hand is currently placed. "This box is quite heavy and it feels as though there is something inside. A small book, or something like it. But the lid seems to be locked shut. Is there a key? "

"There's no key," replies Cato. "Not that it matters … I can't find a lock anywhere on the box. We may need to break the box open if you want to see what is inside."

"No. That would ruin the box," I reply. "The box may be worth more than whatever is inside."

"I've seen pictures of a box like this," says Nadia when I hand it to her so she can take a closer look. "See. The pattern on the lid can be altered."

"You're right. Some of carving seems loose," says Cato as he runs one hand over the raised parts of the pattern on the box. Meanwhile, his other hand is playing havoc with my senses and I can't suppress the occasional moan of pleasure.

Nadia must surely realise what Cato and I are doing. To my relief she looks pleased rather than shocked. Without saying a word she just takes the box over to the table while Cato and I finish our intimate moment. Fifteen minutes later Nadia has found the trick to unlocking the box. It's a form of combination lock that can be opened by pressing down certain parts of the carving. Inside the box is an old leather bound notebook in remarkably good condition. The pattern on the notebook cover is similar to that on on the box. The words inside the notebook are beautifully written but they are in a language other than standard Panem. I can't understand them. Neither Cato nor Nadia.

"Tomorrow I shall go to the library and try to discover what language this is written in," offers Nadia. "Then we might be able to translate it."

"If you wish," says Cato. "But don't go to too much trouble. For all we know it's someone's household accounts and not very exciting. I was more interested in the box."

"I can't see anyone using such a beautifully crafted book for something so ordinary as household accounts," I say, although I agree that some of the symbols look like numbers.

Feeling well satisfied from Cato's attentions, I change back into my shirt and jeans so that Cato and I can set about doing the household chores we normally do on a Sunday. Nadia insists on helping us. Like everyone else in District Eight, Cato and I work six days a week in order to earn enough to live on. From time to time Cato and I have talked about leaving, but we aren't allowed to move outside District Eight without approval. Besides … where could we go to without running the risk of our identification papers being revealed as fakes.

Even though Nadia has enjoyed a more comfortable life until recently, she isn't afraid of doing hard work. I gradually soften my reservations about having her living with us.

"I'm sorry if we let our emotions get the better of us earlier," I say to Nadia when we have a moment alone. "I hope we didn't embarrass you."

"Don't be sorry," replies Nadia. "I'm just glad my presence isn't inhibiting your normal activities. Don't mind me if you feel an urge like that again. I'm quite broad minded."

I'm so relieved that I give Nadia a hug. Her enthusiastic response sets my emotions in turmoil again. I begin to realise that I should be less worried about Cato straying from our one-man one-woman relationship and more about my ability to remain true to our bond.


	4. 1-4 Hiding in plain sight

1.4: Hiding in plain sight.

By the time the following Sunday arrives Cato, Nadia and I have established a living arrangement with which we all feel comfortable. The household chores are shared equitably and Cato and I get some time to ourselves. I suspect Nadia's sudden enthusiasm to join the local volunteer search and rescue team has more to do with giving Cato and I some private time in the evenings than a sudden sense of civic duty. Whatever her reasons, it means three evenings a week we get two hours alone while she attends the training sessions.

Nadia has secured a clerical job at a local warehouse and started work last Thursday. Despite several better qualified applicants she somehow managed to convince the warehouse manager she was the employee he was seeking. I suspect she used her quite considerable feminine charm to influence the manager's decision. She's used her winsome smile on me a few times. More than once I've had to remind myself not to give into the temptation to explore the possibilities Nadia is offering.

Nadia's efforts to translate the notebook inside the box Cato acquired have been unsuccessful. The library here in District Eight contains very few books about other languages, and none of the ones they have match the flowing script contained in the notebook. We replace the book into the box to enable Cato to trade it for something else at today's market. However he decides not to trade them for now, so we find a space on a shelf to place the box. Nadia is keen to keep trying to translate the book, and since Cato has decided to keep it we are happy to let her try.

Over the last week we have learned a little more about Nadia's background. She has has no memory of her parents but she has two older sisters, Ariadne and Pandora, who looked after Nadia while she was a child. Until recently they all lived fairly comfortable lives in the Capitol. Ariadne works with Sarah at Le Chat Noir while Pandora is a freelance reporter. Nadia had only recently completed her studies at one of the Capitol's prestigious colleges when she decided to flee the Capitol after Ariadne and Sarah were placed under house arrest.

The television news is full of the upcoming Hunger Games Victor's Tour. There are several programmes on television about the Peeta and the 74th Hunger Games, but none mention any of the other tributes. Peeta has now married Sheba, whom I personally introduced to Peeta by practically throwing her into his bed a few days before Peeta and I entered the 74th Hunger Games arena. From such an unlikely start to a romance they seem happy enough together in the Victors' Village in District Twelve. I don't know what Peeta believes happened to Cato, Clove, Finch, Rue and I at the end of the 74th Hunger Games. The last time I spoke to him was when the five of us were about to escape from real arena, leaving the injured Peeta to claim victory. He may or may not be aware it was us he was later fighting in the virtual arena Sarah created. Sarah insists all six of us stood an equal chance of emerging as the final victor from the virtual arena, but I'm far from convinced that was the case. Peeta had never handled a bow before, yet he somehow became a deadly archer is less than a day.

There are rumours spreading through District Eight that some form of protest will occur when Peeta visits District Eight. With most of the resistance movement's leaders arrested or in hiding, I've no idea who is behind these rumours. The peacekeepers will undoubtedly be wondering the same thing. Other rumours suggest the rallying call will not be Peeta's victory but the memory of the other tributes, particularly Cato and I, who demonstrated friendship rather than hostility between the districts. If the official broadcasts from the Capitol are to be believed then the 74th Hunger Games was one of the most memorable Games in living memory. And yet, of the 24 tributes, only Peeta is ever mentioned in the television broadcasts. Safe and dependable Peeta, who won the Games according to the Capitol's rules and has been duly rewarded. I can see why those in the Capitol want people to focus on Peeta. He is the model Hunger Games' victor.

Nadia says the Capitol is trying to make people forget about what occurred between Cato and I in the arena. Not that I want our more intimate moments in the arena being broadcast far and wide. I know they weren't televised at the time, but recordings exist and can probably be purchased on the black market somewhere. At the time I didn't really believe I was going to survive the Games, so threw all modesty and caution to the wind. Afterwards Cato and I realised there was nothing we could do about the recordings, so we simply moved on with our life. Yet somehow the whole episode altered my attitude to sex. My blatant amoral behaviour in front of Nadia last Sunday, and a few times since, only confirms the blushing innocent girl that was the pre-Games Katniss Everdeen has well and truly gone for good.

As I tidy the living room I come across the small card from Sarah that told us to expect Nadia's arrival last week. I suddenly remember something Nadia had said and I realise something isn't quite right. I turn to Nadia who is busy ironing clothes.

"Nadia. Last week you mentioned Sarah had been placed under house arrest before you left the Capitol to come here. You also said it took you several days to reach District Eight."

"Yes. That's right," Nadia replies.

"Then how did Sarah write and deliver this note?" I say, showing Nadia the card.

"What makes you think Sarah sent the note? It's not her handwriting."

"Then whose handwriting is it? And who sent it?"

"It's my handwriting," replies Nadia. "I wrote the note and delivered it the day before I showed myself on your doorstep. I needed to make sure I wasn't walking into a trap. Ariadne talked about you a few times and I felt you might be someone I could trust. But I needed to make sure. It will only be a matter of time before the military police realise their mistake and come looking for me."

"Mistake? What is it you fear from the military?"

"I was arrested with Ariadne when the military came for her, Sarah and the rest of her team. But they let me go because I'm not registered as an employee of Le Chat Noir. I left the Capitol as soon as I could before they changed their mind. They will realise at some point that I'm the only person who knows where one of the ARIEs is hidden. If the military police catch me I'll not be able to resist them."

"Cato and I will do what we can to hide you from the authorities. But do you think it wise to continue with the search and rescue team? You come into close contact with the peacekeepers, who may also be looking for you."

"I can't hide inside your house for ever. By joining the search and rescue team I'm hiding in plain sight. The military won't want to tell the peacekeepers the reason they are looking for me, so it's unlikely the peacekeepers will be involved in the search. Besides, neither the military nor the peacekeepers will expect a fugitive to take on such a role, so will not see what is under their noses. It also means I can spy on them in relative safety."

"I admire your courage. I just hope you are right. Cato and I can't do much to help you if the peacekeepers or military come knocking on our door."

"I doubt they will knock if they have discovered any of our real identities," says Cato. "They are more likely to smash the door in and pounce on us before we can escape."

"Well you're an expert on pouncing," I say in an effort to lighten the mood. Our pleasant Sunday afternoon is getting far too serious for my liking. Since my pregnancy was confirmed Cato's has given up the habit of picking me up and tossing me onto our bed and then pouncing on me. Not that his alternative is any less physical … just safer for our baby.

Cato takes my hint and starts chasing me around the room. The room is too small for me to escape and Cato quickly catches me. Normally he would carry me to the bedroom at this point, but with Nadia here he settles for depositing me on the couch and starts tickling me. My efforts to escape are thwarted when Nadia decides to join in the fun. It's the first time the three of us have played together like this. To my surprise I find I'm not jealous of sharing Cato and my time together with her.

We weren't to know it at the time, but it would be the last carefree Sunday the three of us would enjoy together for quite some time.


	5. 1-5 Followers rather than leaders

1.5: Followers rather than leaders.

The peacekeepers' security clampdown starts the following Tuesday. An evening curfew is imposed which means Nadia's search and rescue training must be shortened to one hour. The additional patrols also make it harder to forage for firewood. We are left with no option but to pay the exorbitant prices the official fuel supplier demands. Needless to say the new impositions only increase the simmering unrest across the district. The mood of the people is starting to turn ugly and the threat of violence against anything or anybody in authority is barely contained.

"It only needs a spark to ignite an uprising," observes Cato on Friday evening while we wait for Nadia's return from training. "The Hunger Games' Victors Tour is due here next Wednesday. It could provide the trigger. Things could explode despite all the extra peacekeepers in the district."

"What should we do?" I ask. "Without leaders an uprising will soon become disorganised and ruthlessly crushed. Many people may be killed. It's the scenario the movement's leaders were trying to avoid. A premature revolt will just make things worse. Who can we talk to?"

"Only a few neighbourhood leaders of the resistance movement are still free to act," says Cato. "All the district-wide leaders have been arrested or have fled. We must act on our own. We may not be able to stop an uprising, but perhaps we can ensure the other districts hear about it. The Capitol will almost certainly try to prevent news of any unrest in District Eight from spreading."

I would prefer to prevent unnecessary deaths if we could. But Cato is right. We only have direct contact with a handful of people involved in the resistance movement. Like us, most of them are followers rather than leaders.

"So how do we ensure the news is broadcast to other districts?" I ask.

"Um … I don't know. I was hoping you might have an idea about that?"

Great! Our world is falling apart around us and we seem powerless to do anything about it. Nadia returns home before we can discuss anything further.

"Help me! Please! We must act quickly. Put your coats on … we have work to do tonight," says Nadia in a tone of desperation.

"What about the curfew?" I ask as I fetch my coat.

"If we don't succeed then being arrested for breaking curfew is likely to be the least of our worries," replies Nadia.

"Um … I think the peacekeepers are shooting curfew breakers on sight," says Cato.

"Then we will just have to make sure we aren't seen," replies Nadia.

"What's going on, Nadia?" I ask. "I'd like to know why we are risking our lives."

"Zak Johnston has just been arrested. We need to save his sister-in-law before the peacekeepers take her as well. I know the address but not how to get there," says Nadia.

"Who is Zak Johnston?" asks Cato.

"He's the leader of our volunteer search and rescue team," replies Nadia. "The peacekeepers say he has been active in the resistance movement … He hasn't, but his sister-in-law is one of the movement's neighbourhood leaders. It won't take the peacekeepers long to torture that information out of Zak."

Despite the danger we face, I don't hesitate to show Nadia the way to the address she wants to visit.

"Thanks for showing me the way," says Nadia, as we keep to the shadows of the back passageways to avoid the peacekeeper patrols. "I don't know whether she would come with me if I went alone. She might recognise you from the resistance movement and be willing to leave home at once."

We arrive at the house Nadia says is the one we are seeking. There's no answer to our knock on the door. That doesn't surprise me. It is after curfew and anybody knocking on your front door at this time of night is going to mean trouble. Cato has had the foresight to station himself at the back door while Nadia and I are at the front. A sudden shout and the sound of a scuffle at the back of the house sends Nadia and I to Cato's side. We are in time to prevent a desperate middle-aged woman and a teenage girl from escaping Cato's struggling grasp.

"Wait! We're friends," I say to the woman I vaguely remember seeing before. "Your brother-in-law has been arrested. We're here to take you to safety."

The woman doesn't immediately stop her struggle. Fortunately the girl with her seems to recognise me and stops the woman delivering a vicious swipe at Cato's head. Hopefully I've been recognised as Katherine and not as Katniss.

Once calm is restored we quickly leave the neighbourhood. The noise of the scuffle may well have attracted attention and there is no time to collect any belongings. The peacekeepers could arrive at any moment. We don't stop our hasty but risky flight until we are several hundred metres away. From there we take a slower and more cautious route back to our house. We enter through the back door which I fortunately remembered to leave unlocked.

"I'm Chris and this is my niece Zoe. Thank you for your help," says the woman when we are safely inside our house. "We became suspicious when Zak didn't come to collect Zoe from my house. Do you know what happened to him?"

"A dozen peacekeepers arrived during our training session and checked everyone's identity," says Nadia. "They took all our names and addresses. Then they told us our search and rescue team must be disbanded immediately. When Zak complained they charged him with plotting a rebellion and arrested him. The rest of the team fled as soon as the peacekeepers left."

"Do you have any friends who can hide you?" I ask Chris. "You are welcome to stay here tonight, but the peacekeepers have Nadia's address and may come looking here."

"I gave them a false name and address," interrupts Nadia. "They can't trace us here."

"That was dangerous," says Cato. "Anyway, how did you manage to do that? Their monitoring devices check your DNA and match it to the name you gave them. The peacekeepers will trace you through the neighbourhood residence records once they realise the address you gave is false."

"My DNA is matched in their records to the name I gave then. It's also matched to several other names as well, but that is supposedly impossible so they won't think to look beyond the name I gave them."

"That's a useful trick," says Chris. "I'd like to learn how you managed that."

"Um … I have friends in right places," says Nadia, realising she has revealed more than she intended.

"Well at least it should give us several hours before the peacekeepers decide to start a house to house search," says Cato. "It's going to be a bit cramped with five of us in this house. We will need to sort out something better in the morning."

"If you can look after Zoe for a couple of days, I have a hiding place I can go to tonight. The peacekeepers won't look for me there but it isn't somewhere I can take Zoe."

With every moment critical we agree and Chris leaves after a quick farewell to Zoe and the rest of us. We don't ask where Chris is going; what we don't know can't be tortured out of us.


	6. 1-6 Waiting for an axe to fall

1.6: Waiting for an axe to fall.

Nadia, Zoe and I get to share the bed while Cato sleeps on the couch. I don't know if any of us had more than a few hours sleep. Our bed can just fit three if you top-and-tail. I tried to sleep but Zoe's feet near my face meant I was woken a few times when she started thrashing about. She's clearly worried about her father and I don't blame her for being a restless sleeper. It's something a thirteen year old girl shouldn't be expected to face.

Normally Cato, Nadia and I work on a Saturday, but we are woken by loudspeaker broadcasts saying all businesses are closed today and everyone must stay in their homes. No reason is given but the presence of large numbers of peacekeepers at the end of every street suggests they are about to begin a house to house search. We have no idea whether they are looking for Chris or whether it is part of a general sweep ahead of the Hunger Games Victor's Tour.

Whatever the peacekeepers plan to do they are not in a rush to begin. After a while we give up watching them and Nadia and I set about preparing breakfast for the four of us.

"I'm scared," admits Zoe as we eat our meal. "What are the peacekeepers going to do?"

"It's probably part of the security procedures for the Victor's Tour," says Cato. "They'll probably simply check our identities and move on."

I'd like to believe that was true, but I've never experienced such a rigorous crackdown before. But that may be because District Twelve is so small and remote that the peacekeepers don't need to be so ruthless. This is the first year I've been outside District Twelve. For all I know this is what happens every year here in District Eight.

"The peacekeepers weren't this cruel last year," says Zoe, destroying the illusion all this is a normal security check. "I'm placing you all in danger because of my father and aunt."

Of the four of us I suspect Zoe is the one who is of least interest to the authorities if they discover our secrets. Unfortunately I can't tell her that. We try to act normally but it is like waiting for an axe to fall.

In order to distract her I show Zoe the box Cato acquired at the market and the book inside.

"Wow!" she says. "Look. It's all written in Arabic."

"You recognise the language then?" asks Nadia.

"Yes. Before I was born my mother spent some years far away where they speak Arabic. This is how they write."

"Do you know what the words say?" I ask.

"My mother taught me some of the language before she died. I can understand a few phrases, but not much of what is written here. It seems to be a journal or diary of some kind. Yes! The first page has a title … it says 'Journal of the … something … of Prince Ahmed's … something'. Sorry. I should have paid better attention to my mother's lessons."

"Don't be sorry," says Nadia. "Now I know what language it is written in I can find a means of translating it."

"Great! Will you let me help? I'd love to know what the book says. It will be a connection to my mother's life. She died before I really got to know about her history."

We return the book to the box and place it back on the shelf. It's good that we are planning something for the future because it is far from certain any of us will have one. We read and talk for a while until the noise outside warns us the peacekeepers have begun their sweep along this street.

"Unlock the door and leave it ajar," I say to Cato. "They'll just kick it in if we don't and then we'll be left with no front door."

Cato nods in agreement and does as I ask. We huddle by the fire for warmth. None of us speak knowing there is nothing we can say to comfort each other at this stage.

Despite leaving the door ajar, the peacekeepers seem to take delight in flinging the door open. The hinges complain but at least the door doesn't break. There are four of them, each wearing body armour and carrying a laser gun.

"Line up over there," orders the peacekeeper with a sergeant's stripes on his arm. The other peacekeepers rush through the house.

"There are four of you. There are only three names registered at this address. Explain," says the sergeant as though proud to show off his mathematical abilities.

"Zoe was visiting yesterday evening but couldn't get home before the curfew," says Nadia. "She stayed the night here. She will return to her home as soon as you allow it."

"Hmmph," grumbles the sergeant unable to find anything wrong in what Nadia just told him. "Name check."

A name check is a standard security check which matches our name and DNA. We each give our names and allow the peacekeeper's scanner to sample our blood to perform a DNA test. Everything passes inspection. Our false identities are holding up. The sergeant calls one of his men over to where we are standing. He produces a list.

"We are looking for the following people. If you know the whereabouts of any of them you are required to tell us now. If you don't, and we later find out you knew where they were, then you will be taken to the town square and given twenty lashes," says the peacekeeper with the list.

We don't respond and I wait nervously while the peacekeeper prepares to read what seems like a long list. I suspect there will be many names I recognise and possibly a few I know where they are. But no matter what, I cannot betray them. The peacekeeper clears his throat and begins.

There are over fifty names in all and I recognise sixteen of them. I know where a few of them are hiding, but I lie and say I don't know where they are. Cato, Nadia and Zoe each repeat a denial and the peacekeeper seems satisfied. The other two peacekeepers have finished the search of our house and seem ready to leave. Just as I'm beginning to think we have made it through the search unscathed the sergeant steps forward and stands in front of Nadia.

"Where are from?" he asks Nadia. "You don't look like a girl from this district."

He reaches forward and holds Nadia's chin as if he's inspecting her face for a flaw. Nadia delays replying while the sergeant makes her turn her head left and right.

"My parents died when I was a baby. I don't know where I'm from. I never though it important."

The sergeant is clearly unhappy with her response but doesn't make an issue of it. He lets go of her face and steps back.

"We're also looking for a woman by the name of Christine Paylor. She lives in this neighbourhood but disappeared last night. Do any of you know where she has gone?" he demands.

I can almost feel Zoe's terror when she hears the name of her aunt, but she manages to remain steady.

"No," replies Cato on behalf of us all.

The sergeant is behaving as though he suspects something is wrong but can't quite figure out what. On his orders his men move on to the next house. He is about join them when he suddenly turns towards me and looks at me carefully.

"I know who you are. Katniss Everdeen."


	7. 1-7 Keep out of trouble

1.7: Keep out of trouble.

I feel as though I'm about to faint. The peacekeeper sergeant has just recognised me as Katniss Everdeen. My cover has been blown and with it my freedom … and the freedom of many others. I don't respond to the sergeant's accusation. I simply stand paralysed with fear. Cato, Nadia and Zoe are likewise stunned the sergeant has made this discovery out of the blue.

"No she isn't," says Nadia, stepping forward and holding the sergeant's arm, making him look away from me. "She's Katherine Hunter. You've just verified her identity."

"I know," concedes the sergeant after a moment of uncertainty. "But you are the spitting image of Katniss Everdeen," he adds turning towards me.

There's an uneasy pause while the sergeant decides what to do next. I'm still too deep in shock to say anything. Finally he makes up his mind.

"Go about your business and keep out of trouble," he orders as he marches to the door. A moment later he has gone to join his men further down the street. Nadia shuts the door behind him while Cato takes me into his arms. I burst into tears and take solace in his strong enveloping embrace.

Nadia goes over to comfort Zoe, who, like me, is terrified by what just occurred. Her father is probably still in peacekeeper custody and her aunt is on the run. The two people she probably relies on the most are no longer around to look after her just when she needs them the most.

Finally I feel strong enough to break from Cato's caring arms. We kiss and reaffirm our commitment to each other, not that it was ever in doubt. My concern is that Cato would have tried to prevent the sergeant from arresting me and been killed in the process. I realise I need to thank Nadia for her timely comment which helped defuse the tension that was building to breaking point. However Nadia is still busy comforting Zoe.

"If you are feeling strong enough to manage without me for a while, I will go and check on our neighbours and see if anyone needs help," says Cato.

I nod and thank him for his support. Cato puts on his coat and goes next door. I look along the street to see if any peacekeepers are still around. The peacekeepers have gone and a few brave people are moving about on the street. There has been no announcement that the order for us to stay in our homes has been rescinded, so nobody is sure what we are allowed to do.

I go over to Nadia and Zoe to see if there is anything I can do to help. Zoe has been crying and seems to have fallen asleep in Zoe's arms.

"She's resting," says Nadia. "The shock has been too much for her. I'll sit with her for a while until she recovers."

"Yes, that's fine. I'll clear the bedding from the couch so you can sit there. And thank you for what you did. I thought I was doomed."

"If the sergeant had tried to arrest you he wouldn't have left here alive," she replies.

"And we would all have been killed as a result," I sigh.

"Not necessarily. But it didn't come to that, so let's be grateful we have a little more time before we must take action."

"What are you plotting, Nadia?" I ask.

"I told you when I arrived. I'm here to help you reorganise the resistance movement. In a few days the Hunger Games Victor's Tour will arrive here in District Eight and the protests will begin in earnest. We have only a few days to turn a disorganised uprising into the beginnings of a rebellion that may eventually overthrow President Snow."

"You have grand dreams, Nadia, but I still don't see how we can hope to achieve what you suggest."

"The peacekeepers just told us what we need to know. The names of fifty people still at large who the peacekeepers regard as potential rebels. All we need to do is bring them out of hiding."

"I don't know most of those people, and those I do are in hiding. If the peacekeepers can't find them, how can we?"

"We don't need to find them. We just need them to rally to the call to revolt and the braver ones will come out of hiding to help us."

"And who is going to make this call?" I ask. "Someone with a death wish. The peacekeepers aren't going to sit around doing nothing if people start calling for an uprising. Besides, without a leader we still end up with a disorganised protest the peacekeepers can easily crush. I don't want any part in causing a massacre."

"Only one or two people need to make the call, but you are right about needing a leader," concedes Nadia. "It must be someone who people will believe in and trust. Someone with military or civil defence training."

"My aunt Christine was the leader of the District Eight emergency and civil defence unit until it was forced to disband last year," says Zoe, who has recovered enough to listen in on Nadia and my conversation.

"Well Christine certainly knows how to fight," I add. "Not many people can match Cato in hand to hand combat."

Nadia's intake of breath warns me that I have been careless and used Cato's real name in front of Zoe. I just hope Zoe hasn't noticed.

"Do you know where your aunt is hiding?" asks Nadia of Zoe.

"I'm not supposed to know, but she has a close friend who works at Red Silk House. I think she'll be hiding there."

"Good. When Cat... Catlin returns you can ask him to go and see if she's there," Nadia says to me.

"Hold on! You are wanting me to send my husband into a … brothel," I say, whispering the last word so Zoe doesn't hear.

"You trust him don't you?"

"Er … yes, of course."

"Then there will be no problem. Ask him to let Christine Paylor know we would like to meet with her."

"I could go," says Zoe. "Aunt Christine will come if I ask her."

"No!" Nadia and I reply in unison.

"Anyway, that still leaves the matter of who is going to make the call to the people to revolt," I say. "We can't risk Christine being arrested before the uprising starts."

"Yes. I've given that some thought. It needs to be someone who would be well regarded and respected by the people. I think I know who would be suitable."

"Who?" I ask.

I've a horrible feeling I know who she is going to suggest.

[end of episode 1]


	8. 2-1 Saturday afternoon

Episode 2: Seven days that shook the world (part 1)

2.1: Saturday afternoon.

Zoe is right about where her aunt is hiding. Cato delivers our message and Christine Paylor agrees to meet with us tomorrow morning at a location we will told of at the last minute. I admire her caution when dealing with people she barely knows.

Cato has been busy all afternoon helping repair the damage to neighbours' houses. The peacekeepers seem to have delighted in smashing people's front doors during their search. Not that it did the peacekeepers much good. From what we can gather they didn't find any of the fifty people they were seeking. All they succeeded in doing is antagonising the local population even further and increase the support for an uprising.

A couple of hours before the curfew starts Nadia suggests taking Zoe out for a walk. It seems an innocent suggestion but I know it is to give me time to explain Nadia's plan to Cato and get his agreement to play his part. Cato has other plans for our time alone and I decide pleasure should come before business.

While Zoe has been staying with us, Cato and I have been on our best behaviour when it comes to flirting with each other. Which makes these moments alone all the more precious. I treasure times like these when Cato shows his love and passion for me. Nadia seems to not only understand, but welcome Cato and my need to be intimate with each other. And I'm no longer shy about showing my feelings in return. If Cato wanted to strip me naked in front of Nadia then I wouldn't resist, although we haven't gone that far. I just hope he realises Nadia's feelings towards me. However, I've sorted my feelings out about her and, despite my earlier misgivings, I'm now confident my bond to Cato is secure.

"So, what is tomorrow's meeting with Chris Paylor all about?" ask Cato while we are lying side by side on our bed recovering after a bout of very physical lovemaking.

"Oh, nothing much. Rebellion. Revolution. War. … Just the usual stuff," I reply nonchalantly running a finger over Cato's sweating torso.

"If only that was true. After today's events I doubt there's anything anybody could do to stop an uprising from happening soon. So what's your plan?"

"It's Nadia's plan. I think it's a good one given our limited time and resources. But a dangerous one. The plan requires us to keep Christine hidden until she can lead the uprising."

"That's OK in theory. But when law and order break down people will choose and follow their own leaders. A leader they know and trust. How do you expect Chris to take command once she comes out of hiding?"

"Before things get out of control there must be a rallying call to the people to follow Christine's leadership. Nadia believes some of those in hiding may respond and back Christine, encouraging other people to do the same."

"It's a huge gamble. And what happens if no one responds to the call?" asks Cato.

"If that happens then we are part of the shortest uprising in history."

"Then whoever makes the rallying call had better be someone the people respect and admire. What about one of the District Eight Hunger Games victors?"

"Both are too closely watched by the peacekeepers. They will be silenced the second they try to voice any support for an uprising. However, Nadia agrees with your line of thought. A Hunger Games tribute would be an ideal choice."

"Apart from the victors, all the tributes are dead … except us! You're not suggesting you and I should break our cover and try to persuade the people here to follow Chris?"

"No. I agree with Nadia on that point. It would be too dangerous for both of us to reveal ourselves. One of us must remain under cover to help protect Nadia, Chris and Zoe. If any of them fall into the hands of the authorities then the uprising could be doomed. Nadia knows the whereabouts of an ARIE and Christine's ability to lead the uprising will be weakened if the peacekeepers are holding Zoe hostage; impossible if Christine herself is arrested."

"Then I will be the one who reveals himself and takes on the role of rallying the people. I absolutely forbid you to place yourself and our unborn child in any more danger than we are already facing. Is that clear?" says Cato with a tone of authority I haven't heard him use in a while. It's just the sort of tone and attitude Nadia says we need.

"Yes, oh master," I say in a meek and submissive tone that is partly genuine and partly sarcastic. Normally I don't like people telling me what to do, but there are times when Cato takes full command and when he does it gives me feeling of security. Secretly I'm pleased for several reasons. Cato has again shown how precious I am to him and the personal risks he is prepared to take to keep me and our child safe. Secondly, his response removes the need for me to tell him that he is Nadia's preference for the role in any case.

"Good. Now explain to me how my breaking my disguise won't lead the peacekeepers straight back to you, and through you to Nadia, Chris and Zoe."

Several months ago Cato and I made a contingency plan in case our true identities were discovered. While the plan assumes we will not voluntarily reveal our real identities, it only needs minor changes to still work. However, we haven't planned on only one of us having our real identity revealed.

"If we are lucky it will take the peacekeepers a day or so to link the agitator inciting an uprising to you and I. Christine, Nadia, Zoe and I can find somewhere to hide for a few days while you do what must be done. Once the uprising starts we all pass the point of no return so we will join you wherever you are."

I leave unsaid the huge risks we face. Any number of things could destroy our plan. Cato may be betrayed, enabling the peacekeepers to arrest him before he can rally enough people. Our hiding place may be discovered. Insufficient people may respond to Cato's call to rally behind Christine. Even if people respond, the uprising could fail and all of us arrested and executed. A million things could go wrong. But the mood of the people has changed over the last few months and whatever we do an uprising is imminent. Whether it will lead to a rebellion that will overthrow President Snow's regime is too early to say. But neither Cato nor I wish our child brought up in a world where the Hunger Games exist, so we must do what we can regardless of the risk.

We return to the living room to find Nadia and Zoe waiting patiently for us. I didn't hear them return. I secretly nod to Nadia to let her know I've spoken to Cato and he will carry out his part of the plan. Zoe looks as though she has been crying and I look to Nadia for an explanation. She understands my question without me needing to ask it aloud.

"We went by the Johnston house in case Zoe's father has been released from custody. The house has been ransacked and there's no sign Zak has returned. We managed to retrieve some clothes for Zoe. It's the same at Christine's house. The peacekeepers look as though they are getting desperate."

"That was dangerous," says Cato. "Both houses could be under surveillance. There could have been hidden cameras. You could have been followed back here."

"Yes, I know. Christine's house is being watched, but we had to risk going there. The peacekeepers know Zoe is here with us and they would be suspicious if Zoe didn't try to return home or look for her family. I made sure we weren't followed."

"I understand your motives, Nadia," I say, "but in future please discuss these ideas with us first. If the peacekeepers had arrested you and Zoe, then Cato and I would have had no idea where you were."

"If I fail to turn up when you expect me it will be because I've been arrested … or I'm dead," replies Nadia slightly offended. "There are many things to do in very little time. There are too few of us to check each others every move. We must trust each others' judgement."


	9. 2-2 Saturday night

2.2: Saturday night.

I go to bed still mulling over Nadia's words. Events are rapidly spiralling out of control and I don't know at what point Cato and I became pawns in a much wider and more dangerous game. The sleeping arrangements are the same as last night and Cato is sleeping on the couch in the living room. Zoe is exhausted and quickly falls asleep, leaving Nadia and I lying either side of Zoe's feet. We lie there facing each other. Neither of us seems able to sleep.

"You are uncertain about me," says Nadia. "You wonder if sheltering me is going to add to your troubles."

"Yes," I reply, slightly taken aback by Nadia's perceptiveness. She has identified the very thing that has been worrying me since her and Zoe's excursion this afternoon.

"I will leave if you wish," replies Nadia. "I can help you and Cato fulfil your destiny, but only you can decide whether you wish me to do so."

"Destiny? What destiny? For the last six months Cato and I have been trying very hard to stay hidden and be forgotten. Until recently that was something we have succeeded at very well. Cato and I barely escaped from the Hunger Games arena with our lives and aren't in a hurry to repeat the experience. As much as we wish to overthrow President Snow's regime, we are hardly the right people to lead a revolution."

"You and Cato underestimate yourselves. You joined the resistance movement, so you can hardly claim you are insensitive to events around you. You may not be leaders, but Cato has proved himself to be a warrior whose bravery inspires others. You are a beacon of hope that gives people courage. When you surrendered to Cato and the other Careers in the arena, some of those watching may have mistaken that as weakness. Those who know better recognise the personal qualities and strength it took to do what you did. Few women can place themselves at the mercy of their most dangerous enemies and still think and act clearly. But to me that is only secondary to your ability to create a daemon inside the virtual arena. That ability signifies a far more important skill we will need when it comes to recovering the ARIEs."

"Don't you think we should take things one step at a time. Even if we knew how to go about recovering the ARIEs, it is not our immediate priority. In fact, even if the uprising is successful, there will be little enthusiasm for finding these machines that hardly anybody has heard of before."

"Which is why you must make it your personal mission to save them, and in doing so save the people of Panem. Even if President Snow is overthrown, without control of the ARIEs we will end up living under a military dictatorship."

"My personal mission? As I said, Nadia, you have grand dreams. How do you propose I recover these machines?"

"At the moment it is only the one the Panem military holds that needs to be recovered. Of course that may change over time. Military undercover agents are looking for the other two and will kill anyone standing in their way."

"Just one! Oh, that makes it so-o-o much easier," I say with as much sarcasm as I can muster. "Let me see. I just walk up to the Commander-General of Panem's military … assuming I can find him … and ask him to give me the ARIE he is holding and he will simply reply 'Certainly Katniss. Please wait a moment and I'll have it gift wrapped.' Somehow I can't see that approach working."

"No, of course it wouldn't," replies Nadia, refusing to rise to my bait. Instead she plays me at my own game. "There are several things wrong with your approach. Firstly the Commander-General is a woman. Secondly you mustn't reveal your identity to the military … particularly your real one … or they will kidnap and execute you. Anyone knowing about the existence of an ARIE will be seen as a potential threat who must be eliminated. And thirdly you shouldn't gift wrap an ARIE. It would be far better to allow it to move under its own power."

"Hmmph," I mutter under my breath. "I suppose you have a better plan?"

"No. Unfortunately I don't. But I think you should use the ARIE at your disposal to help you."

"Since when have I had an ARIE at my disposal? And what am I supposed to do with a piece of machinery I've no idea how to operate? Where am I going to hide it? … Wait, wait. … How come we are discussing this? I haven't agreed to do anything more than hide with Christine, you, and Zoe while Cato tries to rally the people behind Christine. I've haven't promised anything about recovering the ARIE the military holds."

"As you wish, Katniss," replies Nadia without any hint of frustration at my refusal to follow her latest dream. "But, as I told you last week, I know where an ARIE is hidden and you can easily interact with it. You managed perfectly well when you were inside the virtual arena."

"Standing in an empty room with a special helmet and gloves on. In case you haven't noticed, we don't have enough space in our living room for the equipment. Besides, we are dealing with the real world, not a virtual arena."

"The helmet and gloves are only necessary if you are inside a virtual world. Apart from the ARIE, you don't need all the equipment Sarah and her team used."

"If it is so easy then why have you picked on me to recover the ARIE from the military?"

"Perhaps I'm not making myself clear. When I said an ARIE alone is all you need, I meant you personally. You have the ability to create a daemon which can be a link between you and the ARIE. Without such a link an ARIE is just an oversized computer."

I sigh, realising where this conversation is heading. "I'll think about it," I say.

"That is all I'm asking you to do at the moment. As you say, we have more immediate concerns at the moment."

I try to go to sleep but I can't. I am too worried about the consequences of tomorrow's meeting with Christine. I lie there looking a Nadia who seems to have had no difficulty in nodding off after our conversation. I've finally overcome my fear she will be an unintentional and unwelcome barrier between Cato and I. Cato has been surprisingly sensitive to my feelings on the subject and has made sure we take every opportunity to be intimate despite Nadia and Zoe's presence. It's almost like when we first met. We had very little opportunity to be alone together in the Hunger Games Training Centre and arena without being observed. Yet we managed our tempestuous and passionate romance to perfection, the consequence of which is growing inside me.

I'm still struggling to sleep when I hear something moving about in the bedroom. I'm about to sit up and investigate when a hand clamps firmly over my mouth.

"Ssshh! Quiet! You are needed in the lounge," whispers Cato.

I recover from my initial shock and quietly slip out of bed. Nadia and Zoe are fast asleep as Cato and I tiptoe out of the room. We enter the lounge where the embers from the fire provide just enough light for me to see Cato's features. The room is still warm. I notice Cato has moved his bedding to the floor. Not that I blame him. Cato is too tall for him to lie comfortably on the couch.

"What's up?" I ask quietly.

"This," he replies.


	10. 2-3 Sunday morning

2.3: Sunday morning.

In the gloom it takes me a moment to work out what Cato means by 'this'. I understand what he means when guides my hand to the problem he is talking about.

"Did this happen by itself or did it have help?" I ask.

"Does it matter? What are we going to do about it?"

"A bucket of cold water should fix the problem. What do you think?"

"Hmmm … I don't favour the water approach. What did we do last time we had this problem?"

"I'm not certain I can remember. It was quite a while ago … nearly five hours. Oh, hold on, I think I recall what we did. Do you want me to wake Nadia and Zoe? I'm sure they will understand that we want to use the bed."

"No. Don't wake them. I was thinking we could manage in here. The couch is quite comfortable … sort of. Or there is the floor, of course."

"I always admire the way you are constantly thinking of my comfort," I laugh. "OK. The floor will be alright."

Cato needs no further encouragement. He guides me to where he has laid out his bedding in front of the dying fire. The warmth from the embers will be enough to keep the winter chill away for a while. I realise he isn't planning on letting me return to bed any time soon when he places some more wood on the fire. It is an extravagant gesture given the price of fuel and our inability to forage for our own. But in a few days time we may not be in a position to enjoy the modest comforts of our living room.

"I take it you intend to have your wicked way with me," I simper when I recognise his opening moves in one of my favourites among the many bed sports we play.

"Most certainly. And don't pretend you don't like it when I do. Now what should you be doing at this stage?"

I know perfectly well what he means. This is the point at which my next action will either confirm I too wish to play this game, or express my desire for a different game. I reach for the shoulder straps of my nightie and let them drop off my shoulder. Cato wastes no time in accepting my offer and vigorously pulls the straps of my nightie downwards, effectively stripping me in a single motion. The sensation is electric, as well he knows, and its game on from there.

I don't know if I have more than two hours sleep all night and I feel quite sore by the time the sound of the toilet flushing alerts us to either Nadia or Zoe is awake. I look at the clock and see it is nearly seven o'clock. We have slept later than normal. We hastily make ourselves decent just before Nadia enters the living room.

"Sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was going to make us all some breakfast. We don't know what time Christine will want to meet us, and I think some food in our bellies is going to help us make it through today."

"That's alright. We were about to get up anyway," I reply, although the thought of another hour like this with Cato has its appeal.

Cato goes to shave and dress in the bathroom while I return to the bedroom to retrieve my clothes. Zoe is busy getting dressed when I enter.

"If you and Cato wanted to sleep together, Nadia and I could have slept in the lounge," says Zoe.

I stop still when I realise Zoe has used Cato's real name. She must have overheard me inadvertently use his name yesterday.

"Catlin … not Cato, Zoe," I reply. "And we don't mind sleeping on the lounge floor. We've slept in worse places."

"I understand your need for secrecy, but you should know that Aunt Christine and I have known you are Katniss and Cato for quite some time."

"And what lead you both to that observation?" I ask, taking care not to admit anything. It is possible Zoe is just guessing.

"A boy I know at school acquired an illicit video of you two making out inside the Hunger Games arena. Aunt Christine caught me watching it and confiscated the video. But not before she and I realised the similarity between you two and the people in the video."

"Who else has made this connection?" I ask, wishing Cato was here to help decide what to do.

"I doubt anybody else who knows you has seen the illicit video. If they have, then either they haven't made the connection or have stayed silent. Of course, it is possible people have seen the official Hunger Games recording, and identified you from that."

"You realise what you've just revealed could get you killed," I say. "Accusing someone of being a dead tribute from the 74th Hunger Games could lead to all sorts of official investigations. Official investigations which could end up with many dead people."

"Yes, I know. I have no idea how you fooled the Gamemakers and all the government officials, but the fact you are still alive proves the Capitol isn't all powerful. It can be defeated and now is the time to defeat it."

A chill runs through me which has nothing to do with the cold winter's morning. Cato has quietly joined us and heard most of our conversation. I don't think Zoe realises that in order to protect me and our unborn child, Cato would kill anyone who poses a threat to our secret. I dread the thought of Cato needing to kill Zoe, but for the moment he decides not to act. Zoe's safety is probably only due to Cato's agreement to break his cover in any case. But the need to do that is dependent on Christine accepting the nomination as leader of the uprising. I just hope Zoe's admission doesn't have dire consequences.

I finish dressing and the three of us join Nadia in the kitchen for breakfast. For a girl from the Capitol, Nadia at least knows how to prepare a decent breakfast from the meagre supplies in our larder. We tuck into our meal and the conversation between Zoe and I is forgotten for the moment.

We have barely finished clearing away breakfast when Cato spots a note lying on the mat by our front door. The message simply contains a time and an address a few streets away. We must now decide who is to attend the meeting. Christine may not want Zoe's presence, but her absence may make Christine suspect a trap. Similarly, we don't know if the message we've received is genuine. A few weeks ago Cato and I made the wrong assumptions about the message telling us of Nadia's arrival. Christine may have been captured and our suggestion of a meeting tortured out of her. Cato takes control, as he does from time to time, and decides I should stay here while he, Nadia and Zoe make the rendezvous. That way … if it's a trap … I'm still at large and may be able to effect a rescue. At least that is Cato's reasoning. I can't help feel I'm being kept away from the meeting in case things go wrong and Cato needs to silence Zoe and Christine in order to preserve our secret.

I manage to catch Cato alone for a moment as they prepare to leave our house. "Take care and whatever happens, don't harm Zoe or Christine," I say quietly. "We can work something out without unnecessary bloodshed."

"OK. I'm not comfortable with the idea of killing them either," replies Cato. "But have a bag packed ready in case we need to make a hasty departure."

It's an unnecessary reminder. An emergency bag is always ready, and Cato and I have several hiding places arranged in case we need to make our escapes separately. I give Cato a lingering farewell kiss as he, Nadia and Zoe depart for the meeting with Christine Paylor.


	11. 2-4 Sunday afternoon

2.4: Sunday afternoon.

I busy myself with housework while I nervously wait for Cato, Nadia and Zoe to return from their meeting. The street outside is quiet after the turmoil of the peacekeepers search yesterday. A few neighbours are outside repairing the damage the peacekeepers caused to their property. Some stop work to talk for a while. From the body language it is clear there is a lot of anger built up inside normally docile people.

I don't know how much time Cato, Nadia and Zoe will need to convince Christine Paylor to lead the uprising. They have been gone for more than two hours and it is approaching lunchtime. Christine must at least be thinking about Nadia's plan or they would have returned earlier. I don't know what to do about making a meal and decide to give them another hour before eating on my own.

Just as the hour is nearly up there is a polite knock on our front door. I look out of the window and see it is a group of six of our neighbours. I've spoken to most of them a number times over the last few months but Cato and my need for secrecy has prevented us from developing close friendships with any of them. I open the door to see what they want.

"Hello, Mrs. Hunter," says the woman, Jessie Towers, who lives three doors down the street. "Is your husband at home?"

"Not at the moment, Mrs. Towers" I reply warily. Her formal greeting making me cautious.

"Oh! That's unfortunate. We would like to talk to him as soon as possible. Have you heard about this morning's edicts from the authorities?" asks Jessie.

"No. I've not had the television on at all this morning. What do the edicts say?"

"All normal legal processes are suspended. It means the peacekeepers can arrest and jail anyone indefinitely without having to involve a judge or prove the accused guilty. We can't let the authorities get away with that. We want your husband to help us."

"Um … How?"

"I think it would be better if we discuss that with him directly," replies Jessie. "Would it be alright if one of waits here until he returns? As I said, we need to talk to him urgently."

"Er … I suppose so. Hopefully he shouldn't be much longer," I reply, not certain I'm doing the right thing. I stand aside to allow Jessie to enter our house. The other five return to their homes.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I ask out of politeness rather than any burning desire to get involved in whatever scheme Jessie and the other neighbours have in mind.

"No. Thanks. We wouldn't expect you to get involved in your condition."

"My condition!? I'm pregnant not senile," I reply, slightly irked that another woman has implied my pregnancy has somehow disabled me.

"Yes. I know. Sorry. But even so, I don't think your husband would approve of you getting involved."

Jessie refuses to elaborate further but from what she has said so far I can safely predict Cato will refuse whatever role they have in mind for him. We switch our conversation to more mundane topics. Ten minutes later there's the sound of running feet and Zoe bursts into the house. She sees Jessie and changes whatever she was about to say at the last minute.

"The peacekeepers are doing another sweep and arresting people at random! We must hide!" she cries through her gasps for air. She must have been running like the wind. I don't have time to ask about Cato and Nadia before Jessie shrieks and makes a run for the front door. The sound of laser blasts outside changes her mind for her. Zoe must have only just made it here in time.

"Grab you bag, Zoe," I say. "I'll take you to safety."

I grab my emergency bag and make a last minute decision to retrieve my bow and quiver of arrows from their hiding place behind the sink. Zoe has returned with her bag by the time I'm ready. We've used precious seconds but my intuition tells me they are seconds well spent. Jessie is wailing and in a panic as Zoe and I prepare to leave through the back door.

I open the back door and quickly check the alleyway for peacekeepers. There are none in sight, but that could change at any moment. Jessie's scream and Zoe's curse brings me back into the house. Standing at our open front door is a peacekeeper in full riot gear and brandishing a stun gun. He grabs Jessie who is too deep in shock to evade his move, but then manages to struggle in his grasp.

"You are all under arrest," he cries as he tries for a better hold on Jessie.

There is no time to think. I notch and arrow and seconds later I have a dead peacekeeper in my living room. Fortunately the peacekeeper sweep is relying on speed rather than efficiency. The peacekeeper was working without close support so we probably have a minute or so before his absence is noticed. I quickly shut the front door, retrieve my arrow and guide the deeply shocked Jessie out the back door. Zoe, to her credit, has remained calm and has even collected Cato's ornate box from shelf as we leave. She places the box in her bag.

We rush down the alleyway just as peacekeepers appear at one end. We duck into a cross passageway leading to the front of the houses on our street. There is the sound of pursuit along the alleyway behind us. Exposing ourselves on the main street will be too dangerous. Our only escape is down.

Several months ago, Cato and I identified the manhole in this passageway as a possible escape route. We have both explored the network of tunnels accessible through this manhole. It was a very unpleasant and smelly job, but I now appreciate every second we spent practising our escape. With the tool I have brought with us for this very purpose, I have the manhole cover open in seconds and Zoe obeys my signal to climb down. Jessie refuses and instead runs off towards the main street. I don't have time to chase her, so I leave Jessie to her own fate. I promptly follow Zoe into the tunnel, replacing the manhole cover behind me.

I find the torch in my escape bag and show Zoe which way to go. The tunnel is large enough to walk along if we stoop. The town is built above the ruins of an old city destroyed many years ago during the great wars. Most of our houses are built from materials salvaged from the ruins. These tunnels must have been part of the old city. Farther on the tunnel joins a network of much wider tunnels. I've never heard anyone talking about the tunnels so not many people may know about them.

"What about Cato, Nadia and your aunt?" I ask Zoe when I feel we are far enough into the maze of tunnels to risk a brief rest.

"Aunt Christine had an escape route ready and she took Cato and Nadia with her. Cato wanted to warn you himself, but my aunt said it was too dangerous. But I volunteered anyway; I'm the fastest runner in my year at school and the peacekeepers might be less inclined to shoot a young girl."

I praise Zoe's courage and silently sigh with relief at her news. Zoe only just made it to our house in time. Cato isn't a fast runner, so he would almost certainly have been caught before he could reach me.

"Did Cato say where we are to meet them?" I ask.

"No. Of course not!" replies Zoe, slightly offended by my apparently naïve question. "I could have been caught by the peacekeepers and made to tell the whereabouts of the meeting place."

"Did he say anything to you before you left?" I persist.

"Only to tell you he loves you and he promises you a bunch of flowers next time you meet."

"Any particular sort of flowers?"

"Um … yellow roses. Why? Does it matter? Anyway, where's he going to get yellow roses at this time of year? I wish some boy would give me flowers sometime. Any sort of flowers. I'm not fussy."

I decide it will be safer to leave Zoe ignorant of the contents of the coded message she has just delivered. I now know where Cato intends us to meet and when.


	12. 2-5 Sunday evening

2.5: Sunday evening.

Zoe and I soon reach one of the main tunnels. This one is massive compared to the tunnel we first entered. The rusting metal rails suggest it was once a railway tunnel but there is no sign of where the trains entered or left the tunnel. This is as far as Cato and my exploration has reached. From here on I am entering unknown territory. I lead Zoe along the tunnel in the direction closest to what my compass tells me is north. It is slow going with only a single torch to light the way. Eventually we come to a much larger tunnel which looks as though it was a station. Only I've never heard of stations being built underground.

By now Zoe and I are very tired and in need of a rest. My watch says it is nearly six o'clock in the evening. We have been in these tunnels for almost five hours. My lack of sleep last night is beginning to tell on me.

"How about we stop here for a rest and something to eat?" I suggest. Zoe readily agrees.

There is enough burnable rubbish lying around to start a small fire on the platform. The temperature in the tunnel is warmer than outside, but it is still chilly. We both carry a few extra clothes in our bags, but only enough for survival rather than comfort. A fire will keep us warm and in better spirits. Besides soup is much better warm than cold. Zoe gathers more fuel while I light the fire and warm the soup.

"Hey! There's a huge sign on the wall here that says 'Masonfield Park'. Do you think it means we are near the park on Masefield Road?" calls Zoe from further along the platform.

"Hmm … possibly," I reply. "We have been heading in that general direction but it means we must already be on the north side of the river. The tunnel must go under the river."

"Wow! We've crossed the river without having to go through a peacekeepers' checkpoint. We could smuggle all sorts of things through these tunnels. Wait until Aunt Christine hears about this."

"While I remember, did she agree to Nadia's plan?" I ask when Zoe's comment jogs my memory. "Will she lead the uprising?"

"Yes. But with a few conditions which we didn't have time to sort out before the peacekeepers started their sweep. Hopefully she, Cato and Nadia escaped together and can complete their plan before tomorrow morning."

After a short meal Zoe and I explore the station to see if there are any signs of a way out. If Zoe is right then we are on the other side of the river to the inhabited part of the town. All that lies this side of the river are the derelict ruins of the old city … at least what hasn't been salvaged to build the town … and our destination. Several months ago, Cato and I noticed a pale coloured ruin from across the river and agreed to use it as a meeting place if we became separated while on the run.

During Zoe's and my exploration we come across a huge tiled wall with what looks like a coloured map drawn on the tiles. The words are strange to me as though written in a language similar, but not identical, to standard Panem. This must be the language the old Americans spoke.

"Look!," says Zoe. "There's a mark which says Masonfield Park. The map must show where the tunnels go. The wide blue line must be the river, although it isn't as straight as the map shows."

I agree with Zoe. This map shows a stylised layout of the old city and will be of great historical importance. More importantly, the authorities may not know of these tunnels so the resistance movement may be able to use them to their advantage. I trace back along the tunnel we have just traversed. Sure enough it goes under the river and runs through a section of the town near to Cato and my house.

"And here's Beacon Hill," says Zoe, pointing to a mark on the map a bit further north along the tunnel we have travelled. "That's where my grandpa lives."

"In the forbidden zone?" I ask, knowing anything that far north of here is a military zone and entry is prohibited.

"Yes. I've not been there since I was little, but that's where grandpa lives."

"I don't understand how that can be. How did you get there?"

"My mother took me to see him but I can't remember how we got there. I haven't seen him since my mother died."

"Will your aunt know the way?"

"Possibly. She hates talking about grandpa. I think she regards his lifestyle as immoral and won't have anything to do with him. Personally I find the thought of him exciting. Did you know he has over thirty children? Possibly more by now."

"Thirty children!" I say incredulously. "I pity his poor wife."

"Oh, he's never married any of the women in his life. Aunt Christine says he keeps up to ten of them locked up in his house at any one time. But I think that is to scare me into not wanting to talk about him. But grandpa says our whole society might not survive the next major plague or war unless the population of Panem grows faster."

"Well he's certainly seems to be doing his bit to rectify the population problem. You have an unusual family," I say as we resume our search for a way out.

The batteries in my torch are starting to fade. I'm down to only one spare set of batteries in my bag, after which we will need to rely on candles. The breeze flowing along a corridor hints at a possible way out. Unfortunately access to the corridor is blocked by a huge metal grill door. Despite its age, the grill door is strong enough to resist my efforts to force it open.

The torch is losing power and I decide it will be better if we return to the fire and sleep for a while. We can make another attempt on the door in the morning when we are refreshed. Our meeting with Cato isn't due until tomorrow evening, so we have plenty of time. Zoe doesn't object to my plan and seems happy to follow my lead.

We gather some more burnable rubbish for the fire on our way back to where we stopped earlier. I add some of it to the fire and when I'm satisfied the fire isn't going to spark or flare up, we huddle close to fire and prepare to get some sleep.

"Do you think everything is going to be alright?" asks Zoe.

"We have done alright so far," I reply. "Tomorrow we will meet Cato at a meeting place not far from here. Depending on what your aunt has decided, he may have Nadia and your aunt with him."

"If we get the chance, can we go and visit my grandpa? He may be able to help us? He might be able to find out what has happened to my father."

"Um … I can't promise we'll go straight away, but I will take you there when we are able. What makes you think he will know what happened to your father?"

"Grandpa has a large family spread throughout much of District Eight. It's like a huge spy network. Even Aunt Christine plays her part despite her disapproval of grandpa's morals. I can't wait until I'm old enough to help."

"Hmmm … Well you are already helping. Your timely warning today has helped us escape and get this far."

"What do you think happened to the woman who was with us?"

"Jessie? I don't know. Now, enough chatter. It's time for some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."


	13. 2-6 Monday

2.6: Monday.

Zoe and I wake early, still snuggled together for warmth. It's pitch black. The fire has burnt out while we slept and there is a cool draught flowing along the tunnel. I find the torch and look at my watch. Five thirty. There's not enough fuel nearby to light a fire. Besides, we need to make a move soon. Either we must continue along the tunnel to the next station or we must try and get through the grill door blocking our way out.

We decide to try the door again. We pack our things and return to the grill door. The extra light the new batteries in the torch provide helps us locate a weak spot in the grill. Water has seeped down one wall and caused the anchors for the grill to rust. A couple of sharp tugs causes the remains of the anchors to crumble. We are able to push the end of the grill forward, far enough to create a gap for Zoe and I to squeeze through. Five minutes later we are on the surface amid a pile of rubble that must have once been the entrance to the station.

Although I've previously studied a map of the area, I've never been north of the river before and I've no idea what hazards exist around here. Zoe is equally unsure of our surroundings. The road has been cleared of rubble, and appears to be occasionally used. If Zoe is right about her grandfather living north of here, then this road is the one that leads there.

I use the compass to get our bearings. The clouds obscure the pre-dawn sky and it is too dark to see the hill on which the pale coloured ruin, which is our destination, stands. A light down the road to the south indicates this area may be inhabited after all. We start walking towards it when we both detect the smell of fresh bread being baked.

"Shall we see if we can find some breakfast?" I suggest.

"Yes. I'm ready for something to eat," replies Zoe.

I have biscuits and another couple of cans of soup in my bag, but it would be wise to save them for later. We follow our noses to a small bakery located among some disused warehouses. The door is open and we cautiously step inside. An elderly couple are busy preparing trays of breads and pastries. We stand quietly near the small counter, soaking up the warmth and delicious smell.

The woman eventually notices us and calls out. "You're up early. The first batch won't be ready for another fifteen minutes."

"That's alright. We don't mind waiting. It's a lot warmer in here than out there," I reply.

"We don't get many strangers in this neighbourhood," says the woman. "Even the peacekeepers don't bother patrolling this side of the river. Are you running from someone? There's nothing but rogues and scoundrels north of here. It's not safe territory for two girls."

"My grandfather's house is at Beacon Hill," replies Zoe. "That's north of here, isn't it?"

"Ah! Him! I thought there was a family resemblance when I saw you. As I said, nothing but rogues and scoundrels north of here. And you look familiar as well, young lady," she adds turning to me.

"You must be getting old, Martha," says her husband. "She's the one the peacekeepers are after. Her face has been plastered all over the television screens since yesterday afternoon. Katherine Hunter. Is that the bow you used to make yourself the most wanted person in District Eight?"

While I don't sense any immediate threat from the couple, I edge towards the door in case I need to make a run for it. I don't reply to the man's question.

"Don't be afraid, dear," says Martha. "If we were peacekeeper spies we wouldn't be living in this part of town. Nobody this side of the river is a friend of the peacekeepers. People around here are more likely to shake your hand than disapprove of what you did. But I know your face from somewhere else. I wish I could remember."

Martha and her husband return to their work. Zoe and I look at each other, uncertain what to do. If the peacekeepers are looking for me alone then either Cato and Nadia have already been arrested, or Jessie has been captured and she has betrayed me. One thing is certain, I can't return south of the river. I just hope Cato can make our rendezvous this evening.

We wait in silence as we watch the hive of activity at the ovens. Martha and her husband must have been doing this every morning for years to be able to do all this so efficiently. I'm so busy watching them I don't notice another customer enter the bakery.

"Morning, Jim. Morning, Martha," calls the man who has just entered.

"Morning, Slim," they reply. "We have some special visitors this morning," adds Martha.

"Yes, I can see. One of old Nate's brood by the look of the young one. And … wow! … Katniss Everdeen! I thought it was you when the peacekeepers broadcast your picture yesterday. So the rumours that you escaped the Hunger Games arena are true. Are you going to lead the uprising?"

"Katniss Everdeen!" exclaims Martha. "I knew I had seen you before. Tell us how we can help you. Oh my! I never thought I'd live long enough to see the revolution. You are our symbol of hope."

"Zoe's aunt, Christine Paylor, has agreed to lead the uprising," I reply, unsettled by Martha's expectations of me. "I've no experience in leading people. If you want to help us, then please spread the word that Christine will lead the people when the uprising starts."

"Consider it done," replies Slim. "I've met Christine Paylor. She's one of Nate's kin and a good choice for leader. People will follow her. They will follow your example as well. Once people know Katherine Hunter is really Katniss Everdeen they will rally to your call."

More customers arrive before the bread is ready and each gives us a similar reception. Support for an uprising is growing rapidly and several people promise to spread my message to all parts of District Eight. I hope Christine, Nadia and Cato approve of my actions. But as Nadia said, we don't have time to check each other's intended actions beforehand. Zoe is delighted at my new celebrity status.

Martha insists we stay with them until we are ready to leave this afternoon. We help out in the shop in exchange for free breakfast and lunch. I describe the building where the rendezvous is to take place, and Martha tells me how to get there. We meet many people during the course of the day and Martha ensures we are well fed.

The time for our departure eventually arrives and Zoe and I say farewell to Jim and Martha. We promise to return here if Cato cannot make our rendezvous. Our route to the pale coloured building is not as easy as I had hoped. Several collapsed buildings block the road and we need to work our way slowly through the rubble. We see a few shabbily dressed men lurking among the ruins as we wind our way to the rendezvous point. They are obviously considering waylaying us so I notch an arrow to my bow. The men quickly slink back into the shadows and leave us alone.

We arrive at the rendezvous on time and settle down to wait. The building seems to be the shattered remains of an old school. If Cato doesn't arrive within two hours then we will return to the bakery and try again tomorrow … and every day after that for a week. After that I must assume something has happened to prevent Cato from reaching me.

An hour into our vigil we see someone approaching. We can't make out who in the failing light but they are too small to be Cato. I ready my bow in case it is an unwelcome visitor.

"Katniss! It's me! I'm coming up!" comes a voice in an unmistakeable Capitol accent.

"Nadia! Are you alone?" I reply. She doesn't answer until she has almost reached our hiding place.

"Yes. I became separated from Cato and Christine while we were fleeing from the peacekeepers. Fortunately Cato had already told me about this rendezvous place. As far as I know they are safe but I don't think they will make it here today. The peacekeepers have thrown a cordon around the whole town. I had to swim across the river to slip through their cordon. And I ran into a bit of trouble this side of the river. Some of the locals didn't like my Capitol accent."

Her sodden clothes confirm she has been in the water. Swimming the river in winter, when the water is freezing and flowing fast, is extremely dangerous. Nadia must be an exceptional swimmer. I look and see Nadia has been injured and promptly use some of our water to clean her up. I'm relieved when I realise her injuries are superficial and she isn't seriously hurt.

"Now what?" Zoe asks.

"We wait another hour to see if Cato and Christine turn up. If they don't, then we go back to the bakery and return here tomorrow evening."

[end of episode 2]


	14. 3-1 Monday night

Episode 3: Seven days that shook the world (part 2)

3.1: Monday Night.

Zoe, Nadia and I return to the bakery. We arrive to find Jim and Martha busy distributing loaves of unsold bread to a group of children. The children look at us with a mixture of suspicion and awe. Most of the suspicion seems directed towards Nadia.

"Who is you pretty friend?" asks Martha of me. "Come over by the fire, dear. You must be freezing in those wet clothes."

"This is Nadia. She is helping us," I reply as Martha guides Nadia towards the fire. "Nadia, this is Martha … and her husband Jim."

Nadia nods a greeting to them both, but the focus of her attention is directed towards the children watching us. One youth about fourteen years old attracts her attention in particular.

"You really Katniss Ev'deen?" asks the youth Nadia is watching.

"I bet you are," chimes in a girl about ten years old. "Half the city is buzzing with rumours that you're alive and that you and Christrine Paylor will lead the uprising when it starts."

"Nah!" adds a boy who could be the girl's twin brother. "What do you know, sis? Katniss Everdeen is much taller. Besides, it's Cato who's going to help lead the uprising."

"Cato?" I ask, unable to stop myself. "Do you have news of him?"

"Yeah," replies the boy. "But I ain't snitching in front of anyone from the Capitol," he adds pointing to Nadia.

"Nadia is our friend and ally," I reply. "She has made a dangerous journey from the Capitol to help us."

"Help us how?" persists the boy.

"I'm here to help Katniss fulfil her destiny," says Nadia, not really answering the boy's question.

"So you really are Katniss Ev'deen?" asks the youth again.

"Yes," I reply, seeing no point in denying it. "Now, what news do you have of Cato?" I ask turning towards the young boy.

"I've heard talk that there have been several meetings in the factories around the district today to discuss the peacekeepers' latest impositions. Cato was at some of them and talked about Christine Paylor leading the uprising. The peacekeepers are after him, but each meeting had dispersed by the time the peacekeepers arrived. That's all I know."

I'm prevented from asking further questions by a disturbance at the door. Nadia has hold of the youth, who has obviously been about to leave.

"I think we have a peacekeeper spy here," says Nadia.

"No! You're the spy," says the youth struggling in Nadia's surprisingly strong grip. "Let me go! I need to get home."

"Let him go, Nadia. We've known Tomas for several months," says Jim. "Nobody around here would dare spy for the peacekeepers. We have our own way of dealing with traitors."

Nadia looks at me as though I'm expected to decide what she is to do. I've no idea why Nadia believes the youth is a spy, but I know she has an uncanny ability to perceive a person's inner thoughts.

"Let him go, Nadia," I say.

She complies, although is far from happy at doing so. The youth promptly leaves without a further word and Nadia returns to the fire. The disturbance is a signal for our gathering to break up. The rest of the children leave together. Jim and Martha find us some sleeping mats and lay them out around the fire. They then say goodnight since they need to be up early to bake tomorrow's bread.

"Why did you make me let Tomas go?" asks Nadia. "He'll betray us for the peacekeepers' reward. They could be here before morning."

"What evidence did you have that Jim and Martha would believe?" I reply. "We are strangers to these people. They aren't going to accept what you or I say against one of their own without proof."

"Hmmm … I suppose you have a point. But I'm certain I am right about Tomas. We are all in danger."

"We could return to the underground tunnel where Zoe and I slept last night," I say. "We haven't told anyone about it so we could go there and hide. If the peacekeepers turn up here then they will find nothing amiss. If they don't, then we can return here in the morning."

"It means leaving this warm fire," sighs Zoe.

"Better cold than dead," says Nadia changing into the dry clothes Martha has found for her.

Neither Zoe nor I challenge Nadia's belief that Tomas will betray us. Nadia has no proof, yet we both treat her warning seriously. We gather our things and quietly leave the bakery. It only takes us a few minutes to reach the entrance to the underground station. We hide in the rubble near the entrance and wait a few moments to see if we are being followed. Satisfied we are not being observed, we enter the station. We need to light a fire to keep warm, so we take the extra precaution of going down to the lower level. It means squeezing past the broken grill and making our way onto the platform.

Ten minutes later we have a small fire going and between us have gathered enough fuel to keep our fire alight for several hours. We lay out our sleeping mats next to the fire and settle down to sleep.

Despite being twenty or thirty metres below ground, we are woken around 3am by what sound and feel like explosions above us. There are six explosions in less than a minute.

"What should we do?" asks Zoe.

"Stay where we are for now, but get ready to move along the tunnel to the north if we hear anyone trying to get through the grill," I reply, dowsing the remaining embers of the fire and taking hold of the torch. We can't escape along the tunnel without a light.

We wait huddled together in the pitch black. After the explosions everything is deadly quiet. If the peacekeepers are responsible for the explosions then they don't seem to be following them up with a sweep of the neighbourhood. Anyone making a thorough search would discover the entrance to the station. The closed grill might delay a searcher for a while before the broken section is discovered. I'm hoping that the delay getting through the grill door will give us enough time to make it far enough along the tunnel before we need to turn off our torch.

After three hours we decide to risk investigating what has happened. Zoe offers to go ahead and look around. Of the three of us she is the least likely to be arrested if she runs into a peacekeeper patrol. Nevertheless it is not without considerable risk, and Nadia and I follow as close as we dare in case Zoe needs our help. Yet again I have to admire Zoe's cool and calm demeanour in such a dangerous situation.

The first hint of daylight is visible as we approach the surface. But it is not the daylight that attracts our attention, but the strong smell of smoke. Zoe goes ahead while Nadia and I find a hiding place just inside the station entrance.

"Oh, No!" cries Zoe suddenly.


	15. 3-2 Tuesday morning (1)

3.2: Tuesday Morning (1).

We can see Zoe standing frozen at the entrance to the station. I'm tempted to run to her to see what is wrong, but Nadia holds my arm preventing me from doing such a rash thing. Zoe soon recovers from her initial shock and returns to where we are hiding.

"They have bombed the area near the bakery," Zoe says in a trembling voice. "It's terrible. We must help the people."

"Are there any peacekeepers about?" asks Nadia.

"No. There's nobody in authority to be seen. There are people fighting the fires and searching through the rubble, but I doubt anyone in the buildings that were hit could have survived."

"The bakery! Jim and Martha!" I cry, making a move to go and investigate. Nadia doesn't stop me this time and the three of us make our way to the bakery … or at least where the bakery once stood.

There are several people frantically looking through the remains of the bakery for survivors. Most of the searchers are the people Zoe and I met here yesterday morning.

"Has anyone survived?" I ask as we approach.

"Katniss!" cries a woman we met yesterday. "Thank goodness you weren't inside when the peacekeepers' hovercraft started dropping bombs."

"What about Jim and Martha? Is anyone else missing?" I ask.

"There's no trace of Jim and Martha. All the locals are safe but we don't know if any strangers were sleeping inside the disused warehouses nearby. The bakery seems to have been the target. Someone must have told the peacekeepers you were at the bakery last night."

"It's all my fault," I murmur trying my best not to cry. Nadia takes me to one side before I dissolve into a blubbering mess.

"Don't blame yourself," she says in a tone remarkably like the one Cato uses when he is trying to pull me out of a despondent mood. "It only proves how crucial the peacekeepers believe you are to the uprising. Don't let the people down now."

Nadia's few words do the trick and bring me out of my despondency. Instead I'm now filled with a deadly resolve. A few minutes later the searchers find the bodies of Jim and Martha, still lying side by side in their bed when the roof collapsed on top of them.

"The peacekeepers must pay for this outrage," I shout. "President Snow and all his cronies in the Capitol must pay for this outrage."

As rallying calls go, my few words must rank as one of the shortest speeches on record. Although I didn't know it at the time, they provide the spark that ignites the uprising. Martha never got her wish to see the start of the revolution. However history will later record the peacekeepers' bombing of Martha's Bakery as a declaration of war against the people of District Eight, and Martha and Jim as the first civilian fatalities of the uprising that followed.

By now a large number of people have gathered. There is a mixture of sorrow at the death of two well loved people; outrage at the peacekeepers action; and, to my surprise, considerable relief that I have survived the event.

"Now what do we do?" asks Zoe.

It's a question I've been dreading anyone asking me because I have no idea what to do next. I know what I would like to happen next … I'd like Cato to arrive and take me in his arms. But I realise that is wishful thinking. Fortunately the local people seem well organised and a couple of the men are deferred to as local leaders. One of them, Slim, is the first customer Zoe and I met at the bakery yesterday.

"We must spread word of what has happened to the people throughout District Eight," says Slim. "We cannot take on the peacekeepers by ourselves. The Hunger Games Victor's Tour arrives here tomorrow. Get the people ready to rise up then so we can send Katniss's message to every corner of Panem."

Slim promptly delegates different tasks to individuals who eagerly set about their mission. Some tasks sound quite dangerous while others are more mundane, but just as important. I'm glad nobody expected me to organise what Slim managed to arrange in under fifteen minutes. So much has happened this morning and it isn't even seven o'clock yet.

There is only a small group of us left at the bomb site. Slim asks a group of six older people to take care of Martha and Jim's bodies. Then he turns to a girl about my age who arrived much later than everyone else. As soon as I study her face I recognise her resemblance to Zoe.

"Elena, please will you escort Katniss and her friends to Beacon Hill. We need to keep Katniss out of sight for a few days. Once the peacekeepers realise they haven't killed her, they will try again … and in force. Your grandfather's house is the safest place around here."

"Yes, of course," replies Elena. "We heard rumours up at Beacon Hill that Katniss was in this area. Grandpa sent me to investigate. We didn't know the explosions we heard last night were bombs. You must be one of my cousins, but I'm afraid I don't know which one," Elena adds, turning to Zoe.

"Zoe Johnston," she replies, equally unable to place her exact family connection to Elena.

"Ah! Zak and Bella's daughter. I haven't seen you in years. Your grandma will be delighted to see you again."

"My grandma?" replies Zoe. "My father told me she died not long after my mother was killed."

"Hmmm … I can see you have a lot to learn about our family secrets," says Elena. "I'm sure you found my mother just as selective about what she tells people about grandpa and his family."

"Do I know your mother?" asks Zoe.

"Ha ha ha! See what I mean. Ma doesn't even tell my own cousin about me! I'm Elena Paylor. Christine Paylor is my mother."

"I didn't even know Aunt Christine had a child!" says Zoe in genuine surprise.

"Well, she has two children. Her secrecy is undoubtedly to protect Joshua and I from any unwanted attention by the peacekeepers. Ma has always been something of a rebel when it comes to politics. But I'm not complaining. Living at Beacon Hill is fantastic and ma comes to visit regularly."

Zoe is clearly dumbfounded at these new revelations about her family. Although I barely know Christine Paylor, I too am surprised at the precautions she has taken to protect her children. It makes Cato and my efforts at keeping our identities secret seem clumsy by comparison.

"If you are ready we can leave now," says Elena. "The sooner we get away from here the better. The peacekeepers will send spy drones into the area as soon as it is full daylight and the smoke clears. It wouldn't do our cause much good if one of them spots Katniss still here, alive and well."

We have no reason to stay here any longer. Going to Beacon Hill may mean I'm unable to make a possible rendezvous with Cato tonight, but from what we have heard he is unlikely to be able to get across the river anyway. To be on the safe side I tell Slim about Cato and my plans to meet and Slim promises to have someone keep an eye out for Cato's arrival and let him know where I am going.


	16. 3-3 Tuesday morning (2)

3.3: Tuesday Morning (2).

Elena has a vehicle parked a few hundred metres away. The markings on the side proclaim it to be the property of the army. The camouflage paintwork gives it a military look but it is nothing like any vehicle I've seen before. It can fit a driver and passenger comfortably with space for another two sat sideways on the metal boxes behind the driver and passenger's seats.

"How did you come by a military vehicle?" asks Nadia.

"Oh, grandpa has several. Beacon Hill is officially a military base; headquarters of the 23rd Army Volunteer Reserve. Only the regiment was disbanded over twenty years. Grandpa was the colonel in charge of the base at the time. Somehow there was a mix-up in the paperwork and nobody told army headquarters to stop sending money each week for the regiment's upkeep. It's an arrangement that seems to work very well for all concerned. Army headquarters believes it still has a well-run trouble-free base here in District Eight. The peacekeepers think the northern edge of the old city is army property, so they don't need to bother patrolling it themselves. And grandpa and all his kin get a free place to live in peace and quiet."

"And what does your grandfather do for a living?" I ask as I take the passenger seat next to Elena. Nadia and Zoe jump into the back of the vehicle and grab hold of the metal bar above my head.

"You mean when he isn't being in charge of his huge family? He's what some people would call a bit of a rogue. He has his hand directly or indirectly in many businesses that aren't entirely legal. If you can persuade him to help you with the uprising you will have a strong ally with access to almost unlimited resources."

Elena starts the engine and the vehicle takes off along the road at a frightening speed. Most of the road is littered with rubble and Elena needs to weave in and out. We occasionally see people lurking in the rubble but they run clear when they hear the vehicle racing along the road.

"It's safer to drive fast through this neighbourhood," shouts Elena above the noise of the engine. "The people living here are mostly drug addicts and drunks. They wouldn't stop at robbery or murder to get what they want."

I quietly ready my bow in case of trouble, but my precaution proves unnecessary. Ten minutes later we arrive at a tall wire fence with a wire gate stretching across a side road. The well maintained sign above the gate says '23rd Army Volunteer Reserve Regiment'. Two uniformed men stand guard at the gate. I can sense Nadia tense behind me.

"This has all the looks of an army base," I say, slightly on edge.

"That's what it is supposed to look like. Once in a while the army makes a surprise inspection, so Grandpa keeps up the appearance that it is a military base. The men on the gate are two of our uncles, Zoe."

Elena stops the vehicle at the gate and one of the men comes over to check everything is alright. If this was a real military base we would have to present some form of identification. Nadia relaxes when the man simply waves us on through the gate with a friendly smile. Elena drives us past a line of wooden barracks until we reach a large house. The house is much older than the surrounding buildings and was obviously someone's private residence at one time.

Zoe stops the vehicle at the side of the building and shows the three of us into the house through a side door. The door must have once been a servants entrance as it opens into a large kitchen area where a score of cooks are preparing breakfast for a large number of people.

"Ah! We are still in time for breakfast. Good," says Elena. "Let's eat before I introduce you to Grandpa."

Elena takes us into an adjacent room. The huge room is used as a communal dining hall. There are an assortment of men and women of different ages eating breakfast. Elena takes us over to a table where trays of assorted foods are on display and we help ourselves to a plate of whatever we feel like eating. We find a table with space for the four of us and we settle down to eat. Those seated around us are too busy eating for more than a brief introduction. They clearly have work to do as they leave as soon as they have finished eating. For the second day running I enjoy a breakfast that fills my stomach.

"Right! Are you ready to meet the man in charge here?" asks Elena when she sees we have had our fill.

Elena leads us through a maze of corridors before taking us up a narrow staircase to the floor above. The stairs bring us onto a small landing with three doors leading in different directions. The one facing us is a beautifully carved solid oak door, whereas the two doors leading off to the left and right are similar to the doors on the floor below.

"We are leaving the old servants area of the building and entering the main part of the house," says Elena, suddenly seeming rather nervous. "Grandpa has rules about noise and such things inside the main house, so do as I do. Please!"

Elena opens the oak door and we step through into a corridor with ornately carved wood panels and a plush carpet. Pictures … real paintings … hang on the walls. Each is a portrait of a person … mainly old men. The plaques under each painting give the person's name and when they lived and died. All died centuries ago, before the great wars. I'm tempted to ask about the paintings but Elena sees me about to speak and holds her finger to her lips to indicate now isn't the time for questions. Slightly frustrated, I comply.

At the far end of the corridor we turn left and enter an equally ornate room with a desk to one side and leather chairs on the other. A young man in his mid-twenties is sat at the desk working on a computer. He pretends to ignore us for a minute or so before looking up from his computer screen.

"Yes? Do you have an appointment to see the Colonel?" he says.

"Er … No," replies Elena, sounding very nervous. "Heinrich told me Grandpa wanted me to investigate the explosions we heard last night and I …"

"Then you should report your findings to Heinrich. If you have no appointment then I wish you good-day," interrupts the young man in a very officious tone.

"But …" begins Elena. The young man raises his hand to signal she should be silent.

"Then we would like to make an appointment to see the Colonel," says Nadia.

"Really? And what could three girls from the town possibly know that would be of interest to the Colonel?"

I'm really starting to dislike this arrogant pig. Unfortunately his arrogant tone brings back memories of Cato when we first met in the Hunger Games Training Centre. I suddenly realise how much I'm missing Cato and get a pang of heartsickness. Nadia notices my sudden change and takes hold of my arm. Her kind gesture soon makes me feel better.

"We have all sorts of information that the Colonel would find interesting. For starters, how about telling him I know the whereabouts of an ARIE?"

"A hairy what?" replies the man in a dismissive tone.

"Not a 'hairy' anything … an ARIE … an Artificial Reproducing Intelligent Environment. Not that I'd expect you to have heard of one before, but I'm sure the Colonel will have."

"Sure," snorts the man sarcastically. "Well, I'll pass your request on to the Colonel. I'm sure he'll be in touch … some day. Now if you've done, I've a lot of work to do."

Elena is almost in tears as she guides us out of the room.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I thought when Heinrich told me Grandpa wanted me to investigate the explosions it meant Grandpa was giving me a chance to show him and Ma how grown up I was. It's one of the difficulties of being part of a large family … you just get lost in the crowd."


	17. 3-4 Tuesday afternoon

3.4: Tuesday Afternoon.

Elena takes us back to the dining hall where we had breakfast. The room is now empty of people and the tables have been cleared. We can hear activity in the kitchen, but no one enters this room. Elena has recovered her composure and is clearly trying to work out what to do with us.

"I'll take you to see Heinrich. He will at least allocate you somewhere to sleep while you are here."

"Can you take me to see my Grandma?" asks Zoe.

"Yes. Of course," replies Elena. "As soon as Heinrich has finished with us."

"Who is this Heinrich?" I ask.

"Heinrich is the administrator in charge of all the unmarried women at Beacon Hill. He sees to it that we are properly looked after and makes sure we behave ourselves. Grandpa personally chose him for the role. Not like that obnoxious man, Horace, we met upstairs. Horace is the son of some local politician Grandpa wants to keep sympathetic to his interests."

Elena takes us across the large yard to one of the wooden single storey buildings built near the house. Inside the long narrow building are a line of offices on either side of a central corridor. The doors are labelled with very military sounding titles. Elena takes us to one near the end which is marked 'Ordnance and Supply Officer'.

"The signs are just for show in case there's an inspection from Army Headquarters," says Elena as she knocks on the door.

"Enter," comes a booming voice. Elena opens the door and leads the way in. The office is quite small and it's a bit of a squeeze for the four of us to fit inside, particularly since Heinrich is huge and occupies as much space as two of us put together. His pleasant smile towards Elena is at odds with his fierce no-nonsense appearance.

"I see you have brought us guests, Elena," says Heinrich. "Please introduce them."

"This is my cousin Zoe Johnston. Zak and Bella's daughter," begins Elena. Heinrich smiles and nods towards Zoe. "Next to her is Nadia … um, I'm sorry, but I don't know your family name."

"Black," replies Nadia holding out her hand to shake Heinrich's hand. Heinrich doesn't make any attempt to respond to her offer to shake hands and Nadia lowers it after a few seconds.

"Um … and this is Katniss Everdeen," continues Elena, slightly embarrassed by the brief awkward moment between Heinrich and Nadia.

"Also known as Katherine Hunter, I believe," adds Heinrich. "An apt surname given the demonstration of your prowess with a bow a couple of days ago. I don't know which group presents the greater danger to you at the moment; the peacekeepers who are trying to arrest you, or the citizens of District Eight who want to parade you about as a heroine of the people. Both groups are likely to get you killed very quickly. Still, you are safe as you can be while you are here."

"My husband, Cato, will be looking for me. Is it possible to get a message to him?" I ask, getting the question I most want answered off my chest.

"Husband? There's no record of your marriage in the official database. When did you marry?" says Heinrich, after looking something up on his computer.

"Um … well Cato and I exchanged vows. Only not in a legal sense," I say defensively.

"Ah!. So your official status is an unmarried woman and Cato's concubine. That makes things much simpler."

I'm not happy about being referred to as Cato's concubine. It implies Cato has certain territorial rights over me and I've none over him. However, after seeing Heinrich's cool response to Nadia I decide not to make an issue of the subject.

"Since you are all single women you are my responsibility while you are here. I shall assign you all to hut six. That's where all the unmarried women between the ages of twelve and twenty reside. Elena will take you there when she has given me her report about her mission this morning."

Elena goes through the detail of this morning's events and how she came to have us in tow. Heinrich listens quietly and makes no comment until she has finished.

"Very good. You have done well. Your grandfather will be satisfied with your efforts. Now please show your guests to hut six. And Miss Everdeen … I'll do what I can to get a message to your neglectful man, but as you know, there is a lot of unrest at the moment and normal lines of communication are broken."

"Can we say hello to my Grandma first?" asks Zoe.

"Yes," says Heinrich. "That would be a courteous thing to do in the circumstances. I will telephone her room to see if she is wishes to see you now or later."

A few minutes later Elena escorts us back into the main house and along a different set of corridors and back-stairs until we reach a beautifully furnished wing of the house.

"This is the east-wing," says Elena. "It's nicknamed the harem because it's where all Grandpa's concubines live. Inside the harem is the only part of the main house where the likes of us don't have to use the old servants corridors and stairs to move about."

"Is that why we didn't come in though the front door and up the main staircase?" I ask.

"Yes," replies Elena. "With so many people living here, there are rules about who can do what and go where. If we didn't have rules then we would be constantly getting in each others way. I'm afraid single women under the age of twenty rank in the lowest group when it comes to main-house privileges. But it's not that bad. It's a little inconvenient sometimes, but nothing major. Ah, here we are."

Access to the east-wing is through a huge pair of ornately carved wooden doors with metal bracing reinforcing the frame and doors. You would need explosives to force an entry. I can see where the rumours that women are kept behind locked doors here originates. Fortunately the electronic sensors identify us as expected visitors and the doors open automatically as we approach them. Once through the doors it is like walking into a different world. I thought I had experienced what living in comfort is like when I was staying in the Hunger Games Training Centre. But this makes the apartments in the Training Centre seem cheap and tawdry. This is luxury at its finest. A woman, who must be in her mid-fifties, comes towards us.

"Elena! So nice to see you again," says the woman. "You must visit more often. And this must be my darling granddaughter, Zoe. My, you have grown into a fine young lady. Your mother would have been so proud of you."

Elena takes Nadia and I on a tour of the east-wing while Zoe and her grandmother share some private time. The wing is very large with many private apartments. There's a huge library and lots of beautiful artwork to admire. We don't rejoin Zoe and her grandmother until well into the afternoon. We share a belated lunch together before we take our leave of Zoe's grandmother. Elena escorts us to hut six.

"I showed Cato's box to Grandma," says Zoe excitedly as we walk along the downstairs corridors. "When I described the book and the few words I know, she said she knows what the book contains. Unfortunately neither of us knew the combination to open the box. If it's alright for me to borrow the book, she promised to translate part of it for me next time I see her."

With all the events of the last few days I had quite forgotten about Cato's ornate box hidden in Zoe's bag. Unfortunately the mention of Cato's name makes me remember how much I miss him and want him by my side.


	18. 3-5 Tuesday evening

3.5: Tuesday Evening.

We reach hut six to find it in utter chaos. Elena told us earlier that there are usually ten to fifteen girls staying in hut six at any one time. However it seems Zoe isn't the only relation to have arrived here today. The mounting unrest in the district is making it a good time to pay a family visit to the relative safety of Beacon Hill. I estimate there are at least forty girls in here. The noise is deafening.

The inside of the hut is almost entirely open plan. The far end is laid out like a dormitory with two rows of twelve beds. At this end is a large communal area with seating, tables and a small kitchenette. A small side annex looks as though it contains the bathroom.

We make our way into the room but it is slow going. A couple of the girls are fighting and we circle around the group watching them. Allocation of the 24 beds is based on the simple principle of she who can defend her claim to the bed gets to sleep in it. Elena is very annoyed her bed has been purloined by a well built nineteen year old girl who makes it clear she is the new tenant of Elena's bed.

"Is nobody in charge?" I ask. "Where's Heinrich?"

"He probably has his hands full looking after all the younger children in hut seven," says Elena, still visibly upset her bed has been taken by a much bigger girl.

"Does he have an assistant? Someone big and strong who can knock some sense into this lot?"

"Not that I'm aware of," replies Elena, having to shout to be heard. "I doubt anyone is likely to volunteer either. Who would be suicidal enough to try and restore order in here?"

"What about their parents?" asks Nadia.

"Probably not here," replies Elena. "This happens every time there's trouble in town. The parents will have got together and hired a bus to bring their kids up to Beacon Hill. They usually stay in town themselves to guard their house and possessions from looters."

"Pa never sent me up here," says Zoe. "If there was trouble brewing I stayed home to help him with whatever needed doing."

I'm about to comment that Zoe is far more mature than most of the oversized six-year olds in this room when there's a scream. Everyone is looking at the girl brandishing a long knife at a younger girl.

"Put that knife down!" I yell loud enough to be heard over the din. The knife wielding girl ignores me and advances on the petrified younger girl. Without stopping to think I grab my bow and notch an arrow. My action attracts the older girl's attention and she stops her advance.

"You wouldn't dare, girlie" she sneers. "I doubt you could hit a barn door with that."

"I killed a peacekeeper two days ago with this very arrow. Do you really want to try your luck?"

The girl seems less sure of herself but doesn't lower her knife. We've reached an impasse. Neither of us can back down without loss of face. To be honest, I've no desire to shoot an arrow across this crowded room. Anything could happen. The buzz of conversation resumes as everyone takes bets on who is going to back down first. Nadia goes over to the girl who was the intended victim of the knife attack and brings the distraught girl to our side of the room.

The impasse drags on for what seems like an eternity but is probably less than a minute. It is broken when the main door opens and a man built like a tank stands in the doorway. I wanted someone big and strong to take charge and here he is … whoever my saviour might be.

"Lower your weapons!" he barks in a tone that indicates he doesn't expect there to be a need to repeat the order. I lower my bow and return the arrow to the quiver. The other girl doesn't comply and to my surprise seems ready to challenge the man.

"I don't take orders from servants," she sneers. "You clearly don't know who I am. I'm …"

She doesn't finish her sentence. The man unfurls the bull-whip attached to his belt and with a deft movement has the end wrapped around the girl's hand. She drops the knife with a scream … I suspect more in surprise than pain.

"She started the trouble," she cries, pointing towards me. A blatant lie, but I sense she has several friends and toadies in this room ready to back up her fable. "What are you going to do about punishing her?"

"I think sharing this room with you is punishment enough," replies the man, clearly uninterested in the petty squabbles of girls. "Now, all of you line up along this side of the room."

Elena, Nadia, Zoe and I, along with half of the other girls readily obey. The other half, mostly those staking a claim to a bed, refuse. The man ignores those girls who refuse to obey his order and addresses those of us lined up facing him.

"My name is Stefan. I'm going to be in charge of your safety and well being for a while. My rules are simple. I give orders; you obey them. Promptly. The slowest girl to obey an order gets a taste of this", he says, indicating his bull-whip. "Questions?"

"What about the sleeping arrangements?" asks a girl. "There are over forty of us and only twenty four beds."

"Forty seven girls tonight. Probably more tomorrow night. Sleeping mats will be distributed shortly. You, you, and you will decide who sleeps in a bed and who sleeps on a mat" he says pointing to three older girls lined up with us.

"Some of us don't have spare clothing with us," says another girl. "Our parents bundled us up here so fast we didn't have time to pack."

"The storeroom in the annex has a box full of clothes that have either been left here or the owner has outgrown them," says Elena when Stefan doesn't seem to have a ready answer to the girl's question.

"Good. Then you are appointed acting quartermaster. You are to take possession of the storeroom key and be responsible for the distribution of the contents if and when necessary."

Elena is clearly thrilled at being appointed to a position of responsibility ahead of some of the older girls. I suspect she isn't going to find it easy going though. I notice more of the girls have joined the line up and only six girls, including the knife wielder, are holding out.

"Now, which of you is Katniss?" says Stefan.

"I am," I reply.

"Ah! The huntress! I should have guessed. I have a message for you. Cato has arrived at Beacon Hill and is currently being debriefed about today's events in the town. I suspect he may wish to see you later on when he is free."

Cato! Safe and well! Stefan's words barely register in my brain as the relief washes over me. Nadia takes my arm to steady me before I do something silly like fainting.

"Right. Any more questions?" asks Stefan. No one answers.

"Then there is only one thing more I need to do at the moment," he says unfurling his whip and turning his back on us.

The six recalcitrant girls look on in disbelief. Two crack immediately and run to join the line of girls. The other four are made of sterner stuff and are willing to face Stefan down. Stefan studies the four girls carefully, assessing which is the ring leader. I've used the same approach when I've been hunting. Disable the leader and the rest are easy pickings. Without warning he lashes his whip out and the end wraps around the torso of the older girl standing slightly behind the others. She shrieks but I sense his stroke was not designed to do more than shock her.

Two more of the girls run to join the line of girls, leaving the girl who has just been struck and the knife wielding girl alone. Both seem uncertain what to do next. Their own pride refuses to let them back down, but even their closest supporters have deserted them for now. Stefan turns to one of the girls who has just joined our line.

"Tell me the names of these two," he says pointing to the defiant girls.

"Marigold and Faye," replies the girl in a weak voice. I suspect Marigold and Faye are going to make her pay for her betrayal and she knows it.


	19. 3-6 Tuesday night (1)

3.6: Tuesday Night (1).

Stefan leaves the room without any further delay. The room erupts into turmoil as soon as he has gone. Marigold and Faye promptly gather their cronies together and berate them for their cowardice. I count eight of them in all and make a mental note of their faces. I'm not the only one in the room who anticipates trouble from that group. For the moment, though, they seem preoccupied with squabbling among themselves.

Elena immediately goes to the storeroom to retrieve the key before someone else beats her to it. The three girls Stefan appointed to the task of bed allocation gather together to discuss what to do. Zoe is busy taking care of the younger girl who was Faye's target, while Nadia is keeping close to me in case the excitement of Cato's arrival proves too much for me.

"You were fantastic," says Nadia, showing a level of awe I feel is totally undeserved. Several other girls come over to express their appreciation at my intervention, along with a few who simply want to be able to say they have had a conversation with the notorious Katniss Everdeen.

Order is gradually restored and Marigold's group announce they will offer a truce to all those girls who have wronged them. Providing, that is, the eight of them each get a bed. I'm left in no doubt that I'm one of the wrongdoers they refer to, along with about a dozen other girls in the room who are probably just as innocent. In the interests of peace, the bed allocation committee agrees to their demands. The rest of the beds are allocated by family relationship and age; daughters of the Colonel out-ranking granddaughters. I don't receive any special treatment, and neither do the other two girls who are visibly pregnant.

Since Nadia and I aren't related to Zoe's grandfather, we are automatically out of the running for a bed. Not that I mind. Even if I can't be with Cato tonight, I prefer to sleep well away from Marigold and company. Elena and Zoe's rankings are too low in the very complicated pecking order to gain them a bed. The nineteen year old who commandeered Elena's bed is assigned a sleeping mat which she begrudgingly accepts with a dose of sour grapes. Unsurprisingly, the three girls forming the bed allocation committee each have a high enough ranking to earn themselves a bed.

The mats are delivered half an hour later along with a hot meal for all of us. With the large influx of guests today the regular dining room is not big enough for everybody, so we and the children in hut seven are to have meals in our huts. Those of us assigned to sleeping mats help stack the mats along one wall ready for use later on. Elena co-opts a few helpers to take some spare mats to the storeroom.

While this is going on, Marigold takes command of the distribution of food. Not that she does anything involving manual work. She confines her contribution to issuing orders to all and sundry. With Marigold in charge I initially fear there will be an unfair distribution of the food. But apart from the choicest bits of meat going to Marigold and her cronies, the food is distributed as equitable as possible in the circumstances. We settle down to eat and for the moment there is peace in the room.

I'm busy talking to a group of younger girls who are asking me questions about the 74th Hunger Games when Nadia taps me on my shoulder.

"There's something going on," says Nadia. "Some of the older girls are getting changed as though they are off to a party. I'll go and find out what's brewing."

Nadia returns a minute or so later looking very concerned. "You've got five minutes to get ready or you'll miss out," she says.

"Miss out on what?" I ask.

"Seeing Cato tonight. Six of the girls are going to some sort of welcoming ceremony for Cato. I get the impression he's expected to choose one of them and … um … take her to his bed."

"What!" I exclaim, only just managing to keep the shrillness out of my voice.

"Oh, it's alright," says one of the younger girls. "It's a family tradition. Any man who proves himself to be brave and strong is invited to add his genes to our extended family by siring a child on one of us. It's all quite consensual and a great honour for the chosen girl. All of the girls going will have volunteered and are quite eager. He could select all of them if he feels up to it. After all it isn't every day we get a warrior from the Hunger Games arena visiting us."

"Cato is my husband!" I say, leaving aside the issue of how many girls Cato might be capable of entertaining at once. This family mission to repopulate Panem is going a step too far for my liking.

"That can't be," says another girl. "You wouldn't be in here if you and Cato were married. Heinrich is very strict about such things. Which means Cato is fair game for all of us. I wish I was older."

"You're wasting time," says Nadia. "Get ready. While only six girls from the family are allowed to attend, there is apparently no rule against an outsider taking part as well."

I leap up and dash to the bathroom to wash. It's then I realise I've no chance of getting in there. The bathroom is already fully occupied with the six girls busy beautifying themselves. Another problem crosses my mind … I've no clean clothes left, let alone anything suitable for an occasion like this one.

"Come with me to the store room," says Elena when I tell her my predicament. "We'll see what's in the clothes box. There's a small sink in there as well."

I quickly follow Elena and I do my best to wash in the tiny basin while Elena rummages through the box of clothes.

"I'm sorry, but nearly everything in this box is too small or is torn," says Elena. "This dress is about your size and it would be really pretty if it wasn't torn down the front."

"I don't want pretty … I want sexy," I say. "What's in that box up there?"

"Um … that's the punishment box. It's not been used in ages. If a girl really misbehaves Heinrich tells her to fetch the punishment box. She doesn't usually misbehave again. There are a few items in this box over here, but they are really old."

Three minutes later Elena escorts me to where the six girls, one of whom is Faye, are now putting on their overcoats ready to be taken to the main house where the ceremony is to take place. I get a brief look at what they are wearing and size up my competition. I have to concede they have all scrubbed up well and every one of them is really attractive in her own way. The look of determination on each girl's face shows this is going to be a no-holds barred, winner-take-all contest.

"Are you seriously going to attend the ceremony wearing that?" asks Faye, looking at the sweeping kaftan which covers me from head to foot. Only my face is visible among the great folds of material. At least none of the girls challenges my eligibility to attend the ceremony.

I don't reply to Faye's question and further conversation is avoided when a couple of older women arrive to escort us to the main house. Wishes of good luck are showered on the seven of us as we leave. I don't doubt that as soon as we have left the hut there will be bets on which girl is going to be Cato's sleeping companion tonight. I'd like to say I'm certain which of the seven of us that will be, but I can't rid myself of the niggling doubt in the back of my mind.

We enter the house through the usual side entrance and are escorted upstairs to a small room where we are instructed to prepare ourselves. The other girls hand their coats to a woman but I leave my kaftan in place. The woman looks surprised but refrains from any comment. The other girls straighten their clothes and quickly tidy their hair. A minute later Cato enters the room happily chatting to two men in their early twenties.

Cato has clearly been told what to expect and looks like a boy who has being offered first choice from the candy jar. He doesn't seem to recognise me hidden under my kaftan. It gives me a chance to observe his reaction to the display of feminine charms laid out before him. I suppose I shouldn't blame him for behaving like any red-blooded male at the sight of a bevy of sensuous and very willing girls. At least he isn't drooling at the sight of so much female flesh like his two companions. I wonder if they get to pick any of the girls who miss out on Cato's selection.


	20. 3-7 Tuesday night (2)

3.7: Tuesday Night (2).

Of course Cato is just acting. At least where it matters. The personality traits that attract me to Cato are like a wild animal that will wither and die if I cage them. It's the same in reverse. We both need the freedom to hone those very traits that attract us to each other. And what better way to hone Cato's powerful maleness than to let him strut and parade those traits before the eyes of eager girls.

That's not to say I would be happy if he took one of these girl's to his bed. Of course I wouldn't … I'd be furious. But I'd also be angry with myself for failing to defend my territory. I'm a huntress. Cato is my quarry and always will be. But other huntresses may be chasing the same quarry. I won't blame another huntress if she proves better at trapping her prey. I won't blame the quarry if he is snared by a better huntress. My claim over Cato is territorial not possessive. I don't own Cato any more than he owns me. I have an unrestricted right to hunt in my territory but there is no guarantee of exclusivity. Our relationship would never survive if it were any other way.

If Cato was seriously contemplating taking one of these girls to his bed he would be a lot more talkative. He clearly doesn't want to embarrass our host by refusing his well meant and generous offer. The two men with Cato are not so reticent. My presence here give Cato an honourable way out … providing I show myself to be a worthy choice.

Cato has first choice. He walks along the line of girls and talks briefly to each of them. Faye is so forward as to take his hand and place it on her breast. I hide my smile. Those before Faye in the line are fuming at her audacity. But I've no sympathy. It's their fault for thinking this is simply some kind of beauty parade. Faye is going to be a worthy competitor but she is going to have to try harder than that … much harder. Cato plays along with her ploy and seems to take an eternity before removing his hand. And I'm sure he discreetly fondled her breast while he was talking to her. That will earn him a black mark.

Cato doesn't stop to talk to me and walks on to the next girl. A snicker from one of the girls indicates she thinks I'm already out of the running. However I saw Cato's eyes and know he's recognised me. Whether that was before or after the breast fondling incident remains to be established. That niggling doubt I had when we left the hut evaporates. My hunting skills are still in fine form. Cato is clearly in no hurry to finish his inspection and I maintain my composure as he flirts with these girls. I suppose he needs to pretend the girl's intelligence and witty conversation plays some part in the selection process. Finally he returns to face me.

"It is hard to appraise your beauty when you are wearing such a garment. Will you remove it?" he asks me as though I am a stranger. His eyes are sending me all sorts of messages. It's game on. These girls may not realise the contest is over, but it is. It probably was the second Cato walked into the room. The only question is how long will Cato leave them dangling.

"You may remove it yourself if you wish," I reply. He does. There are gasps of astonishment from everyone in the room. Although Cato simply admires me and says nothing, I can tell my daring choice of costume has exceeded his wildest dreams. I've well and truly snared my quarry against strong competition. The thought does wonders for my self esteem and I quietly congratulate myself on producing such a killer outfit from next to nothing.

The old fashioned frilly nightie Elena found in the second box of clothes leaves little to the imagination, particularly as I've nothing on underneath. I would reach out and place his hand on my breast if I could. But what makes this costume more than skimpy nightwear are the contents of the punishment box liberally applied to different parts of my body. The chain around my waist is fastened to the handcuffs restricting my hands. A longer chain links my ankles and waist making it impossible for me to run away … not that I have any intention of doing so. And the collar and chain lead are reminiscent of when Cato held me captive in the Hunger Games arena. The effect on Cato is exactly what I hoped it would achieve. The effect on the other two men is an added bonus, but I pay them no mind. The other girls may as well not be here. Cato reaches out and takes hold of the chain lead.

"Follow," he says as he tugs my lead. I don't have any ability to do other than as he commands. I only briefly see the other girls gawking at what is going on before their eyes. Well, let them watch and learn. Cato likes to feel in control of me, and I love it when he thinks he is. But the person in charge of events is at my end of the chain.

It seems Cato has been assigned a room in the main house. Quite how he managed that is a question for later. He leads me into the room and shuts the door. We enjoy a long and lingering kiss before going any further.

"I missed you," he says before I can say the same thing to him. There are many items of news we need to catch up on, but now is not the time. Perhaps in the morning.

"The keys are on my wrist," I say indicating where the keys to unlock my fetters are located.

"Not any more," he replies, removing the keys from my wrist but making no move to free me.

"Are you intending to keep me locked up like this all night?" I ask.

"Given the rumours about what you have been up to in my absence, I am seriously considering such a move," replies Cato, knowing what the consequences of such an action will be.

"You are a very wicked man, Cato. It's lucky for you that I love you."

The game for tonight is decided. I am more that excited, I'm wetting myself with desire. By telling Cato he is a wicked man I've confirmed his proposed game is alright with me. By adding that I love him tells him he can push the boundaries as far as he dares. My only protection from physical harm will be our safe word. It's a dangerous game but the rewards are a trip to that other universe our minds enter when we are in the throws of our wildest lovemaking.

My nightie is slipped off my shoulders and would fall to the ground if the chain around my waist didn't hold it in place. Despite the handicap of the chains I manage to undress Cato. It's not as though I haven't had practice doing so while restricted in some way or other. The beast is ready for me but I know I can make Cato do better. He caresses me in the most delicious ways as I go to work on the beast. Cato knows he has a difficult job ahead of him which could take most of the night. I just hope he doesn't wimp out on me and unlock my chains before morning. He won't be forgiven for fondling Faye's breast if he does.

This is a game we discovered in the arena and have only played it the once. The experience was out of this world, but until tonight we have never had the opportunity to repeat it since shackles and chains aren't among our household possessions. To an observer it would seem as though I'm at a disadvantage and must yield to Cato's selfish desires. But we both know that's not the case. Cato knows he must pace himself correctly or become exhausted before I am ready to release him from his obligation to keep me in this high state of arousal in exchange for restricting me like this. He can admit defeat at any time and unlock me. But I know his male pride will prevent him from doing so, just as mine will deter me from using our safe word, which is the signal to Cato that I've had enough.

Morning comes too soon. Cato has fulfilled his part of the bargain and the contented look on his face suggests I have given as good as I received. Finally he releases me from the chains and I stretch my sore arms and legs. Well, actually, all of me is sore in a pleasant sort of way.

"I don't know what I'm going to wear today," I say picking up the nightie.

"I've a spare shirt that should be good enough for now. I'm short of clothes given our hasty departure from home."

"Thanks. I'm in the same situation. I'm out of clean clothes. I think we need to talk to our hosts about washing what we have, and acquiring some extra clothes."

We share an intimate kiss and cuddle before dressing. Cato's shirt is just about decent on me. I will just have to be careful I don't let the lower edge rise up as I walk. Cato goes to find one of our hosts while I use the bathroom. It's still quite early … about six thirty. I'm leaving the bathroom when I see Faye come out of a bedroom. She turns to give the man at the door a passionate kiss before flouncing off. She gives me a quick smile and wave. From the look on her face she obviously isn't too disappointed at losing Cato to me.

Cato returns five minutes later with two breakfast trays.

"There's news from the town overnight," says Cato. "The Hunger Games Victor's Tour in District Eight has been cut short and the whole ceremony is going to be held at the railway station. Not many people will see Peeta and there may be no broadcasts showing what is happening here. The uprising may not start as we planned. I need to return to the town and help Christine reorganise."

"I'll come with you. Nadia and Zoe will want to help as well. We need everyone we can muster," I say.

"No. I'll take Nadia and Zoe … if they wish to come … but there's a far more important task for you to carry out. You must stay here and persuade the Colonel to support the uprising in any way he can. Without his resources the uprising will falter and ultimately fail."

"I've only just found you again and you want to run off back into danger. You are asking a lot of me, Cato. I thought we agreed to share the dangers."

"And we are. Your speech yesterday morning has made the peacekeepers redouble their efforts to capture you. They've assigned teams of men to the task who are desperately needed elsewhere. Promise me you won't leave here before I return. I'll try to make it back here tonight, but I'll only be gone for a day or two at most."

I'm not happy about what Cato proposes, but I recognise what he says makes sense. The uprising must succeed or before long I'll be arrested and executed for killing that peacekeeper.

[end of episode 3]


	21. 4-1 Wednesday morning

Episode 4: Seven days that shook the world (part 3)

4.1: Wednesday morning.

I rejoin the other girls in hut six. Stories of what happened at the ceremony last night have preceded me and I've acquired further notoriety. Marigold clearly regards me as little better than a cheap prostitute. I value her opinion as much as I respect her, which is to say not at all. To my surprise, Faye and a couple of the other girls congratulate me on a daring victory fairly won. I hand over the items I borrowed last night and Elena returns them to the storeroom.

Cato left for the town before eight o'clock. Nadia and Zoe wanted to join him but Heinrich refused to allow them to leave Beacon Hill. Nadia must stay because Zoe's grandfather, the Colonel, wishes to see her, and Zoe because her aunt Christine's involvement in leading the uprising might make Zoe a target for the peacekeepers. Of course, I can't leave here at the moment because I killed a peacekeeper and a warrant has already be issued for my arrest for murder.

The clothing situation for the recent arrivals at Beacon Hill is resolved when Elena arranges for a store room in another hut to be opened and army uniforms distributed to those who of us who have no clean clothes left. The uniforms are too large for the younger girls, but fortunately the box of cast off clothing in the hut six storeroom contains enough to satisfy the younger girls' needs.

Heinrich makes an appearance around nine o'clock and details a group of girls to the task of washing clothes for the residents of huts six and seven. If we were better organised we would have done that without Heinrich's intervention. Unfortunately Marigold and her seven sycophants refuse to cooperate with the rest of us except when ordered or when it suits them to do so.

Nadia was right when she said the Colonel had heard of Artificial Reproducing Intelligent Environments and is interested in Nadia's assertion that she knows where an ARIE is hidden. Nadia asks me to join her when she meets him. I readily agree since I need to persuade the Colonel to provide help to the uprising which, if all goes to plan, should start around midday when the Hunger Games Victor's Tour arrives here in District Eight.

At ten thirty Nadia and I arrive in the waiting room outside the Colonel's office. The obnoxious Horace tells us to wait and then promptly ignores us.

"What are you going to say to the Colonel?" I ask Nadia as we wait.

"As little as possible. We needed to see him about supporting the uprising and it's the only thing I could think of that might attract his interest enough to meet with us."

Cato said he briefly met with the Colonel yesterday evening, but was unsuccessful in persuading the Colonel to do more than provide shelter for the children of his extended family and a few others like Nadia and I. In some respects I can understand his point of view. If the peacekeepers or the army realise the uprising is getting tangible support from Beacon Hill then the army won't hesitate to take action. So far the army has stayed clear of helping the peacekeepers quell the unrest. But as soon as they become involved then the uprising becomes a civil war. Something I doubt the people of District Eight are in any position to fight at the moment.

"The Colonel will see you now," says Horace in his officious tone. Nadia and I enter the Colonel's office and meet the man who holds the fate of hundreds of lives in his hands.

Given the ages of his children and grandchildren I had expected to meet a man well into his sixties. Instead I'm faced with a man who can't be much more than fifty years old. I quickly overcome my shock and return the Colonel's polite greeting. The three of us sit around a small circular table.

"To save time, let me confirm what I'm sure Cato has already told you," begins the Colonel. "I will not supply weapons to the townspeople; I will not order any of my family to take up arms in support of an uprising; and I will not allow the communications equipment at Beacon Hill to be used to broadcast television signals to other parts of Panem."

"But you will provide medical supplies and food to the townspeople," says Nadia, as though she is the Colonel's commanding officer. "And you will allow any of your kin who wishes to volunteer to join Christine Paylor to do so."

"Hmmm … you are a forthright young woman," says the Colonel, surprised by the directness of Nadia's statement. "But I think I can agree to those terms. Christine may be my most rebellious daughter but I won't abandon her. Now tell me what you know about the army's most closely guarded secret? When and where have you heard about an ARIE? And what makes you believe one is hidden somewhere? According to army intelligence the one and only ARIE in Panem is safe and sound at Fort Centennial."

Nadia does well to hide her joy at being told where the army is holding the ARIE she is seeking. And also that it isn't common knowledge among the army top brass that there are, in fact, three ARIEs in Panem.

"I had an unpaid summer job helping out at Le Chat Noir in the Capitol. I overheard the head lady, Sarah, talking about the ARIE while I was there. I lied when I said one was hidden," she says. "We needed to see you and it was the best way I could think of to get your interest."

I know at least part of what Nadia has just said is a lie, but until now I have believed she knows where an ARIE is hidden. Why else is she insistent I use the ARIE to help us retrieve the one the army holds at Fort Centennial.

"You are a very cunning, Nadia," laughs the Colonel. "I can see a bit of myself in you. But I know we aren't related. Now if you will excuse me it seems I have to make arrangements for medical supplies and food to be prepared for distribution."

We stand and head towards the door. Just as we are about to leave I turn to the Colonel and say, "Your granddaughters Elena and Zoe would like to meet you sometime … as a grandfather rather than the colonel of this base."

"Yes, I know. I fear Elena is very much her mother's daughter. I love her too much to let her risk herself like her mother frequently does … at least until Elena is ready. But I guess that time is rapidly approaching. And Zoe has things to learn about her past that might come better from her grandmother than from me. I'll meet them both soon … I promise."

We leave the office and walk back towards hut six. Nadia is delighted at the outcome of the meeting. I'm less sure. Cato and Christine were relying on me obtaining the Colonel's support for the uprising, and I'm far from convinced we have done enough. Still, food and medical supplies are better than nothing.

"Nadia. Were you telling the truth when you told the Colonel you don't know the whereabouts of a hidden ARIE?"

"Ah! Yes, there's no hidden ARIE. I'm sorry. I should never have lied to you about that. But no harm has been done. You have exceeded my expectations and we are well on the path to achieving our goal."

"You're not making sense, Nadia. What have I done that has exceeded your expectations?"

"You've created a daemon to unlock the full power of the ARIE. You're brilliant!"

"No, no, stop Nadia. What daemon? And where's this ARIE I'm supposed to have unlocked."

"Stefan. Stefan is the daemon you created. And he's so lifelike. He even talks and can interact with a whole roomful of people. He's wonderful."

"Stefan?!" I stutter in disbelief. Yet somehow what Nadia says has a ring of truth. I was thinking I needed a strong man to restore order to the near riot that was going on in hut six, and then Stefan appears out of the blue and does exactly what I was wanting to happen. And I haven't seen him since.

"OK, let's assume for the moment that Stefan is a daemon created by my imagination and who can exist in the real world. Where's the ARIE that isn't hidden but nobody seems able to see?"

"I'm here," replies Nadia. "I've not been hiding from you. You just never saw me."


	22. 4-2 Wednesday midday

4.2: Wednesday midday.

The revelation Nadia isn't human but a biological supercomputer is taking me a while to digest. So is the fact that last night over forty girls, including me, followed the orders of a non-existent being that my imagination had created. There are scores of questions going through my mind but I can't decide which are the most important. The implications of what has happened are huge. Nadia just sits nearby and waits while I struggle to make sense of even a small part of what she has revealed. Fortunately we have this corner of the hut to ourselves for the moment.

"OK," I say to Nadia when I finally feel ready to launch into my barrage of questions. "How did I create Stefan and how did he know Cato was here at Beacon Hill last night?"

"Cross-dimensional transfer is extremely difficult and only one person in a thousand has the ability to do what you did. Of those with the ability, only one in fifty thousand ever use their talent. You are one of those who has … twice. Until you created Stefan I could only link to the outside world using the same five senses you use; sight, smell, touch, sound and taste. With Stefan to act as a bridge between this world and the other dimensions an ARIE can use, I am able to do so much more. I suddenly found I was able to connect to the computer network here at Beacon Hill. It was an easy step to read the gatehouse entry log and the Colonel's appointment diary. When I saw Cato had arrived, all I had to do was relay that information to you through Stefan."

"So what else can you do that you couldn't so before?"

"I'm still discovering that. You are the first person to create a daemon with which I can interact. I've known about the existence of the other dimensions, but never been able to access them until now. This is all new to me. You'll have to allow me some time to discover the boundaries of my own abilities. But remember, an ARIE was originally created to manage the worldwide production and distribution of food and power, so I guess I'm capable of doing a lot … if only I knew how."

"What about your sisters? Are they ARIE's too? I thought the computer that created the virtual Hunger Games arena was that huge box with all the lights and wires connected to it."

Ariadne is the ARIE who created the virtual Hunger Games arena and all the virtual worlds at Le Chat Noir. Sarah doesn't know it is Ariadne who is creating them. She believes the boxes with the flashing lights are ARIEs. Pandora is like me, an ARIE who has never previously used her full powers."

"So the boxes everyone has been so careful to look after do nothing?"

"Oh they do something … they're very good at flashing lights in a random sequence. The army experts will be scratching their heads trying to work how the one they have works. We must rescue Ariadne before the army experts realise the box is a fake."

"So what happens next?" I ask.

"The train carrying Peeta Mellark and the rest of the Hunger Games Victor's Tour is due to arrive at the railway station in an hour. I'm trying to find a way to connect to the any of the security systems or the television network. If I succeed we may be able to influence what happens. Otherwise we will have to wait for someone to bring news from town."

I look out of the window and see several trucks being loaded with medical supplies. It seems the Colonel is being true to his promise and is readying supplies for the townspeople. I look back towards Nadia but she seems preoccupied and has a faraway look on her face. I decide to leave further questions until later. Instead I go to look for Elena.

I have let Zoe borrow Cato's ornate book and she is spending the morning with her grandmother in the east wing of the main house. Hopefully her grandmother can translate some of the book for her and answer some of the mystery that surrounds Zoe's past. Elena was going to join Zoe, but changed her mind as soon as she realised a convoy of supplies for the townspeople was being readied. I just hope Elena doesn't plan on doing anything rash, like drive one of the vehicles into town. I find Elena busy helping load boxes of tinned food onto the back of a truck.

"Where's this lot bound for?" I ask.

"We don't know yet," replies Elena. "Until the uprising starts and we know how the peacekeepers are going to respond we can't set up distribution points. We can be sure the peacekeepers will secure the hospital as soon as any trouble starts, so Ma may have to arrange medical stations in other parts of the town. Unfortunately we can't contact her at the moment. The peacekeepers have disabled all the telephone lines this morning and are jamming all but a few radio frequencies."

I stop to help load the truck but one of the men working with Elena insists I don't carry anything heavy because of my condition. For once I don't rile at the consideration being given because of my pregnancy. I'm quite tender in several places this morning, although that has more to do with Cato and my frolics last night than my pregnancy.

The truck doesn't take much longer to load and I see two other trucks are similarly loaded and ready to depart. Elena and I return to hut six to find a new group of girls have arrived in our absence. Marigold is holding court and is busy telling the seven new girls how inconvenient their arrival is and that they may have to sleep outside. One of the girls is pregnant and, from the size of her, her baby must be due at any time. I look for Nadia and see her where I left her, still with a faraway look on her face.

"Stop that, Marigold," says Elena as she walks up to the older girl. "These girls are expected and there are sleeping mats in the store room for them. I'll take care of them."

Marigold is stunned by Elena's interruption. Marigold regards her status within the huge extended family as several levels higher than Elena's, and clearly isn't used to being addressed in that way by a younger girl … or any girl for that matter.

"And by what right to you get to say where these girls sleep?" snorts Marigold.

"I was appointed the acting quartermaster for this hut until further notice," replies Elena. "What was your appointed role? Oh, I remember … whipping post."

I start to worry Elena has pushed Marigold too far and she will take revenge. But none of her cronies are here at the moment and Marigold isn't the sort of person who fights her own battles. Elena's actions earn her the appreciation of the new girls, most of whom are closer in age to Marigold than Elena. Perhaps Elena's actions have gained her some useful allies.

I leave Elena to organise the new girls while I go over to see what Nadia is doing. She seems to have returned from wherever she has been and seems quite pleased with herself.

"I can't break into the peacekeepers network or the on-board system on the train. There must be a way but I just don't have the experience to overcome the encryption security. But I have managed to access the railway station's train control system. I've diverted the train so that it will arrive at one of the outer platforms at the station. One that is outside the security cordon the peacekeepers have so painstakingly set up and won't have time to move. There's now a chance the television broadcast will pick-up the protests and unrest in District Eight."

"Well done, Nadia," I reply. "Are you able to find any way of contacting Christine Paylor? Or Cato? We need to know where to send the supplies."

"I don't know where Christine is currently. The normal telephone networks are blocked and she isn't using any radio transmitting device. But Stefan can pass a message to Cato for you easily enough."

"How am I to do that? Is Stefan with Cato?" I ask.

"Stefan is your creation so you can control him in any way you like. All you have to do is instruct him to pass your message to Cato. I can help you if you are uncertain how to do that. And yes, Stefan went with Cato this morning. Someone needs to watch Cato's back given you weren't allowed to go with him."


	23. 4-3 Wednesday night

4.3: Wednesday night.

With Nadia's help I send my message to Stefan. At least I think I do. The link only works in one direction. I've no way of telling whether or not I was imagining the whole thing. I breathe a sigh of relief when we hear that there's a message arrived from Christine asking her father to send the medical supplies to three locations tonight under the cover of darkness. I've no idea whether Christine's message is as a result of my attempt to communicate with Cato through Stefan, or if the timing of her message is pure coincidence.

It's a frustrating afternoon with hardly any news about what is happening. The peacekeepers have jammed the television broadcast within District Eight since midday. Since they won't be allowed to block the broadcast of the Victor's Tour arrival and Peeta's speech to the rest of Panem, everyone else may know more about what is happening in our own town than we do at Beacon Hill. Smoke and the occasional explosion can be seen coming from the area of the town near the railway station long after Peeta and the Victor's Tour will have left. We are too far away for all but the loudest sounds to carry.

Elena is fuming at not being allowed to go with the supply trucks when they make their night time deliveries. Her younger brother, Joshua, has been assigned to a team of four to take one truck and she sees that as grossly unfair. In her current mood I wouldn't recommend anyone trying to annoy her further. Fortunately even Marigold realises she needs to bide her time before getting her cronies to take revenge on Elena.

We sit in the hut speculating about what is going on in town. At seven o'clock we hear the truck engines start and some of the girls go to the window to confirm the convoy is leaving.

"Are you able to get any news at all?" I ask Nadia, not really knowing what she is capable of doing in this situation.

"I can access the fire department's communication system but that's about all. There are fires scattered around the town but the peacekeepers won't let the fire crews near those in the western and northern parts of the town."

I record the locations on a small map of the town and circle those which the fire department is prevented from attending. Without telling her how I acquired the information, I later hand the map to Elena. She goes thoughtful for a while.

"Ma is trying to keep the peacekeepers away from the river," she says. "That way if anybody wants to flee the town, or if things go badly, they can cross the river and hide among the ruins of the old city. Or they can come towards Beacon Hill. The places Ma wants the medical supplies delivering are consistent with that strategy."

I'm impressed by Elena's ability to deduce her mother's plans. I've no idea whether she is right but she seems certain in her own mind. I can see why her grandfather said what he did about Elena. If Christine is able to think strategically like that then the people are right to choose her as their leader.

Further speculation about the events in town is interrupted when Jane, the new girl who is due to give birth, announces with a scream that she is about to do precisely that. Elena and I go over to her and help her onto a bed. Most of the girls are at a loss as to what to do and yet again Elena takes charge. She sends one girl for a doctor or a medic. Then she turns to Faye and instructs her to help with the birthing. I've no idea why she has chosen Faye, and Faye is clearly just as mystified. Nevertheless she complies without any fuss.

"Tell me if you need anything," says Elena to Faye, as Elena shoos the bystanders out of the way. Marigold looks on in complete astonishment. Elena has effectively stolen Marigold's second in command from under her nose.

There is a buzz of activity as we wait for a doctor to arrive. Faye makes several requests and Elena assigns a girl to each task. The girls soon learn that if they want to watch then they may be called on to help. The spectators thin out after a while. The baby doesn't seem to be in a rush to arrive and it could take all night. Which is fortunate since all the medical staff left with the trucks.

I'm sitting with Nadia and Zoe away from the main activity when Nadia turns towards me and whispers, "I'll see you in the morning."

"What do you mean?" I ask. Before she can answer a sack is thrown over my head and I feel myself being picked up by a strong pair of arms. I struggle but the hand clamped over my mouth prevents me from screaming. I sense I'm being taken outside where I'm finally released. I rip the sack off my head and get ready to take a swing at whoever has had the audacity to kidnap me from a room full of girls.

"Whoa! Careful!" comes a familiar voice.

"Cato! Cato!" I cry as I leap into his embrace. It's all I feel able to say as my built up emotions overwhelm me and I eagerly yield to his demanding kiss. It's a kiss that reaches through to my very soul and I never want it to end. But we both need to breathe and we break long enough to take in much needed air.

"I hope you have somewhere to take me or you're just going to have to lay me down over there," I sigh barely containing my desire to get down to some serious lovemaking.

"Don't I always think of your comfort? I still have the bedroom in the main house. Come on, I'll carry you. I take it we don't need the chains tonight?"

"Not tonight. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you tight."

Cato carries me to his room. It's the first time I've entered the house through the front door and up the main staircase. A few people see us but don't make any comment. There's a fire already lit in the fireplace and the room is toasty warm. Which is as well since Cato has the army uniform I've been wearing all day off me in less than a minute. I make a move to reciprocate but he stops me.

"In a minute," he says softly. "I want to admire your body first."

Cato and I have played many bed sports together. Some of them can be quite rough and, like last night, physically demanding on both of us. But every now and then we are in the mood for a much gentler form of togetherness. Tonight is such a night and I admire the way Cato makes me feel so soft and feminine while he is a gentle giant. I respond to his caresses in the best way I know how although, to be honest, this form of coupling isn't something I feel particularly talented at doing right. I know I sometimes make mistakes, but Cato is a patient teacher and softly guides me when I go wrong.

"You're getting really good at this," he says after we have been caressing each other for quite a while. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps practise is improving my skills. The beast certainly thinks so and I sense he is ready for a visit to the moist cave that eagerly awaits him. Cato is well attuned to my needs and I don't need to do more that give a longing sigh for him to roll me over and satisfy my desire.

Afterwards we fall asleep wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs. We wake and repeat the exercise a couple of times during the night, although we are both tired and sleeping together is what we need the most.

We are both early risers and shortly before dawn we are both awake. The pleasant afterglow of our night's activities still washes over us. Cato turns towards me and gives me a lingering 'good morning' kiss. But I sense a degree of tension in his kiss this morning.

"What's wrong," I whisper into his ear as we embrace.

"The uprising will fail. It was premature and too few people were ready. We don't know how much of what is happening here was broadcast to the rest of Panem. The peacekeepers were well prepared and have responded in overwhelming force. We hold the river bridges and some areas in the west of the town. We can probably hold out today, but Christine has already made preparations to withdraw those people the peacekeepers are likely to arrest and execute to north of the river. From there she will take what supporters she can into the northern forest and try to regroup. You and I will need to go with them."


	24. 4-4 Thursday morning

4.4: Thursday morning.

"I understand. I'll be ready. I'm sorry, I should have done a better job at getting the Colonel to support the uprising," I say.

"There's no apology due. You did far better than anyone expected. You have saved hundreds of lives by getting him to release food and medical supplies."

"Well Nadia deserves much of the credit. By the way, did Stefan return with you?"

"No. We became separated not long after he said we needed to let the Colonel know where to send the supplies. I don't know how he knew that. While I was meeting with Christine he disappeared. There was a lot of rioting going on around us, so I don't know if he is alright or not."

"What are we to do today?" I ask.

"We need to make preparations for a withdrawal. Food, supplies, transport, weapons … anything that a large number of people need to survive in the wilderness."

"Then we had better stop lounging in bed and get to work," I say untangling myself from our embrace.

To save time we take a shower together. Well, OK, perhaps not just in the interests of saving time. By six thirty we are in the communal dining room helping ourselves to some breakfast. We are not the first to arrive. Two of the three supply trucks have returned safely but the one with Joshua on board has failed to return and is several hours overdue. Someone tells us the Colonel is in contact with the peacekeepers to see if they have seen the missing truck. It's a tricky piece of negotiation since the peacekeepers mustn't be allowed to know the truck was delivering supplies to those involved in the uprising. So far there has been no news of the truck.

After breakfast I stop by hut six to change my clothes. Faye and a couple of other girls are still busy helping with the baby's delivery which, from what I can gather, will be very soon. Elena has heard her brother is missing and is studying a map trying to work out where the truck might be. Nadia is sitting quietly to one side and I can tell be her faraway look she is busy doing what only she can do. Zoe is helping distribute the clothes which were washed yesterday to their rightful owners.

"How did you go with your grandmother and the book yesterday?" I ask Zoe, belatedly remembering to ask her about her visit yesterday.

"Oh, it was great. I've promised to go and visit again tomorrow. Grandma promised to tell me a bit about her history and how she she met Grandpa and came to be here. Is Nadia alright. Every now and then she looks a bit strange and keeps muttering to herself."

"I think she's alright. It's probably the stress of the last few days catching up on her. She was fine yesterday."

Zoe hands me my washed clothes and carries on with her task while I go over to Nadia. I wait patiently until she is ready to talk to me.

"You don't need to wait to talk to me," she says almost immediately. "I am able to multi-task."

"I just wanted to know how you are. Cato thinks the uprising will falter after today. He's making plans to evacuate as many as he and Christine can manage and hide in the northern forest. He and I need to go with them. You can come if you want."

"Of course I'll come, but you'll lose many good people if you all try living in the forest. Few people will have the necessary survival skills to live in the wilderness. And the peacekeepers will probably chase us as far as the mountains. No one can survive up there for long at this time of year."

Unfortunately I know Nadia is right. But letting the peacekeepers arrest everyone is likely to result in just as many fatalities. All of a sudden everything is looking rather bleak. Elena comes over to join us. She has an idea where the missing truck may be and points to the area on the map.

"That area was surrounded by the peacekeepers last night," says Nadia. "If the truck is in that area then they are likely to be captured as soon as the peacekeepers begin their assault."

"How do you know that?" asks Elena.

"It's safer for you if you don't know," I say, torn between letting Elena in on Nadia's secret or keeping her ignorant of information that could get her killed. However, I too would like to know how Nadia knows about the peacekeepers movements.

"We can't stop the peacekeepers but we might be able to make them willing to compromise," says Nadia.

"I think Ma is trying to do that already," replies Elena. "But she isn't leading regular troops. The men and women under her command have had no training and are armed with nothing more than sticks and stones."

"Yes, I know. I wasn't meaning to criticise your mother. But she isn't aware of all the resources she has at her disposal."

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell anyone," whispers Elena. "But I received a message saying Ma is coming here in a few hours time. She heard that Joshua is missing and she's coming to meet Grandpa about something."

I look at Nadia and her wink confirms she is the source of Elena news. I now realise Nadia has managed to break into at least some of the District Eight communication systems. Perhaps there is hope after all.

A baby's cry announces the arrival of the newest member of the Colonel's extended family. We all gather around to welcome him. His mother, Jane, looks tired but in otherwise fine spirits. The birth went well, especially since we are still waiting for a doctor to arrive. A medic did briefly stop by a few hours ago and promised to return later, but has so far not done so. Jane is full of praise for Faye's help.

"Well done, Faye," says Elena. Faye fairly beams with pride.

"Thanks. Why did you chose me to help? I've never done anything like that before."

"We needed someone who wasn't going to go wobbly kneed at the first sight of blood," says Elena. "You were my preferred choice."

If that was Elena's only reason for her choice I know there are over a dozen girls in the room who could be relied on not to faint at the sight of blood. Her choice was clearly a ploy to undermine Marigold's authority and in that respect she has succeeded admirably.

An hour or so later Elena and I are summoned to a meeting with the Colonel in hut three. No reason is given, but Nadia mouths 'Christine' to me as we get ready to leave hut six.

"You had better come with us, Nadia," I say, taking responsibility for including an uninvited guest.

Hut three turns out to be the recreation hut and our meeting is held in what is normally the billiard room. There is a moment of uncertainty about Nadia's inclusion, but Christine confirms it is alright for her to attend. The Colonel, Christine, Elena, Nadia and I sit on some easy chairs around a coffee table.

"I thought it safer if we met here," says the Colonel. "Fewer prying ears and eyes." An obvious reference to Horace, whom the Colonel clearly doesn't trust with this level of secrecy.

"The peacekeepers have brought in more reinforcements overnight," says Christine. "They must intend to crush the uprising by tomorrow. We can't hold out. I need your help, father."

"I'm sorry, Christine," says the Colonel with genuine regret. "I told you my reasons for not helping you before you embarked on this risky enterprise. Your people are untrained and too few in number. Arming them now will just cause greater reprisals and army intervention. My advice is to retreat and regroup."

"I know," sighs Christine. "But I will lose many good people in the process. Even if the peacekeepers let us withdraw peacefully … which they won't … many will die in the wilderness. I never anticipated the peacekeepers bringing in such a huge force so quickly."

"The political situation is more fragile than many believe," says the Colonel. "President Snow has ordered that unless the uprising is crushed by midday tomorrow there will be several senior peacekeeper officers missing their heads by Saturday."


	25. 4-5 Thursday afternoon

4.5: Thursday afternoon.

"Then we only need to make the peacekeeper commanders believe they can't achieve an end to the uprising by this time tomorrow and they will surely be open to an offer of peace," says Elena.

"That is an excellent objective," says the Colonel. "Just how do you propose to achieve it?"

"Um …" begins Elena. "Can we jam the peacekeepers' communication system? Without it they can't organise all their forces."

"That would work, but we don't have the necessary equipment. It's a shame we don't have the ARIE you talked about Nadia. Apparently after they modified it for military use it could sabotage whole computer networks."

I look towards Nadia who shrugs her shoulders. Obviously whatever process an ARIE uses to attack an enemy's computer system is unknown to her.

"What do you know about an ARIE, Colonel," I ask, hoping he might say something that gives Nadia a clue what to do.

"Sorry, that's a closely guarded military secret. All information about an ARIE, sigma keys and the like are not for public knowledge."

I sigh and turn towards Nadia. I quickly avert my eyes back to the others when I realise she has that faraway look on her face again. I need to distract the others before they wonder what is wrong with her. Fortunately Elena changes the subject and nobody notices Nadia.

"What are we to do about Joshua and the rest of his team," asks Elena. "Have you had any news of them?"

"Not for certain," replies the Colonel. "But the area they were to make their delivery was surrounded by peacekeepers last night. There's no way in or out."

"What about the underground railway tunnels?" I ask.

The Colonel, Christine and Elena all turn towards me for a more detailed explanation. I tell them what Zoe and I discovered when we made our escape last Sunday. The Colonel finds a map of the old city and we locate the tunnel Zoe and I travelled. On the map it appears as a dotted line without any explanation what it means. We trace similar lines in the western part of the town and find a line which leads into the area surrounded by the peacekeepers.

"We need to get as many of the people out of the trap before the peacekeepers attack," says Elena.

"It's too risky," says Christine. "The tunnels or the station entrance may be blocked. The peacekeepers may have already overrun the area. I can't afford to leave my command post for longer than I've done already."

"Then I'll go," says Elena. "I only need a small team. Some of the girls in hut six might volunteer to help. It's pretty frustrating sitting around doing nothing. We'll be careful. If the tunnels are blocked then we will simply turn back."

"Absolutely not!" reply the Colonel and Christine in unison.

"You are here at Beacon Hill to keep you safe," continues Christine. "You are not to go charging off on some fool crusade that will likely get you killed. I understand you want to play a greater part in overthrowing President Snow's regime but you aren't ready Elena."

An uneasy silence follows. A potentially explosive and ill-timed mother-daughter spat is in danger of erupting.

"I tell you what, Elena. Some of your older cousins and a few men and women from town are due to start an officer training programme here tomorrow. You can join them if your mother agrees. If you undertake and pass the programme, then in a couple of months your mother and I will discuss letting you take on a greater role," says the Colonel in an effort to diffuse the tension. Elena looks at her mother for her consent to the Colonel's proposal.

"Yes, OK," sighs Christine, not really happy about placing Elena in danger. "Please keep Elena safe, father. I might not be able to do so."

The meeting breaks up. Christine says a tearful farewell to her father and Elena. She genuinely believes she might never see them again. Nadia and I wait quietly to one side as the family completes its farewells.

"I have control of the peacekeepers communications network," whispers Nadia. "I should have realised before what the sigma keys do. But there's a problem."

I'm stunned by her revelation. I've no idea what the sigma keys are and but clearly they are important.

"So what are you going to do now?" I ask. "What the problem?"

"I can't do anything without an order from a human being in authority. You. The sigma keys enable me to do many things but they also block my free will. You must tell me what you want me to do with the peacekeepers network or order me to release my control over it. I'm trapped until you do."

"Can you cripple their network?" I ask.

"I can fry every component in their communication devices if you want. But scrambling the security algorithms in their main computer will be just as effective and less obvious. They might not realise the malfunction is due to my attack. It will take them days to trace and repair the damage."

"Good. Do it."

"Done. Thank you," she sighs as she returns to her normal self. "I will need to be careful how I use the sigma keys in future. It's quite draining when I'm working at that level of control. And I can't say I like being mentally imprisoned like that."

"Um … Christine," I say. "Sorry to interrupt, but can I suggest you issue a peace offer to the peacekeepers. Tell them you are willing to negotiate a peaceful end to the uprising. You never know, they may be willing to talk."

"Well, I suppose there is no harm in trying. We've nothing to lose. Father, could you get a message to them. They would let a military patrol through their cordon."

"Yes," replies the Colonel. "It's the least I can do. You are the bravest of all my children, Christine. I'm sorry things have ended like this. You deserved better."

Elena, Nadia and I return to hut six. We've missed lunch, but fortunately some of the girls have saved a few bits of food for us. Marigold decides to make her move while we are eating.

"The girls and I are tired of you bossing us around," she says to Elena. "We decided to have a vote on who should be leader in this hut. Isn't that right, girls?"

A few of the girls shout a loud 'yes'. A few others agree but seem less enthusiastic. I wouldn't mind betting they have been individually coerced into supporting Marigold's demand for a leadership vote.

"Very well," says Elena. "We need at least three candidates. I nominate Faye for one. Who do you nominate?"

"Um … Er … Well I intend to stand, of course," replies Marigold, completely wrong footed by Elena's nomination.

"Good," replies Elena. "How about young Zoe for the third. She has a good head on her shoulders."

"Yes, OK," replies Marigold, knowing Zoe is unknown to most of the girls so will be unlikely to gather more than a handful of votes.

"Don't you intend to stand?" asks Marigold.

"No. I'm moving out of hut six this afternoon. I'm moving into hut twelve. I start my military training in the morning."

Marigold is fuming. With Elena gone she would almost certainly be deferred to as hut leader. But she has committed herself to a leadership vote. Now Elena has split Marigold's supporters I suspect the result may be closer than Marigold thinks.


	26. 4-6 Friday

4.6: Friday.

I don't see Cato that evening and I spend the night in hut six rather than wait alone in his room. Cato is in a meeting with Christine and the Colonel in the main house. The peacekeepers prompt acceptance of Christine's offer of peace means she must now negotiate the settlement conditions. The negotiations started almost at once here at Beacon Hill. I've no idea how well they are proceeding and at first I only manage to snatch brief moments of sleep. Eventually tiredness overcomes me. It is almost dawn when Nadia nudges me awake.

"Cato is waiting for you outside," she says.

I don't ask how she knows that. I simply put on my army jacket and go outside. Sure enough, Cato is waiting.

"Grab your things," he says. "We're leaving. Now."

"Have the negotiations failed?" I ask.

"No. They have gone very well indeed. Only there's a price I'm not prepared to pay."

"The peacekeepers want me," I say, guessing why Cato is so eager to depart.

"You and Christine Paylor. In exchange they will release all their prisoners and withdraw all their extra men. Christine even demanded they reverse all the unjust rules they imposed over the last few weeks and they agreed. All on the condition that you and Christine surrender yourselves into their custody and stand trial for murder and treason."

"And if Christine and I refuse?"

"They will execute some of their prisoners each day until you are captured. But we can flee. Nobody will blame us."

"I'll not run, Cato. I'm not worth the lives of so many people. What does Christine say to their terms?"

"She has agreed. I volunteered to come and get you, but I can't take you to a certain death."

"Cato. I love you with all my heart. But ever since the Hunger Games reaping all those months ago, we both know we have been living on borrowed time. A trial for treason will last months. Anything can happen in that time. There's always a chance."

"You are far braver than I, Katniss. I promise you I'll spend every waking moment working for your freedom."

We embrace and kiss. A tender and loving moment. Although I don't admit it to Cato, I fear it may be our last. All too soon Cato and I walk arm in arm towards the main house. I stop near the door.

"Please don't come with me any further, Cato. I don't know whether I can see this through if you are by my side ready to protect me. Far better for me to face my fate alone."

Cato isn't happy at my request, but doesn't argue. We share a parting kiss and with tears in my eyes I enter through the front door. If I'm not supposed to enter the house by this route then the Colonel knows where he can stick his rulebook. I find my way to where the Colonel and Christine are waiting. There are four senior peacekeeper officers, including the Chief Commissioner, with them.

"You understand what has been agreed, Katniss?" asks the Colonel.

"Yes," I reply. Christine embraces me.

"Very well," says the Colonel. "As of this moment Christine Paylor and Katniss Everdeen are under arrest and in military custody. When the peacekeepers release their prisoners and withdraw their additional forces, I will hand both prisoners over to you, Chief Commissioner. Is that satisfactory?"

Clearly the Chief Commissioner would prefer some other alternative, but he knows his communications network is useless. He will have a hard enough time putting the terms of the peace agreement into effect without it. "Yes," is his only reply. He and his party leave at once.

The Colonel is clearly upset at what he is expected to do. It can't be easy for a father to be a party to his daughter's arrest and probable execution. Christine could make him feel much worse. His failure to fully support the uprising and his refusal to help yesterday will be wounds he must bear for the rest of his life. That Christine doesn't rub salt into his wounds underscores what a great leader she has become. We don't protest as the Colonel escorts us to the cellar and locks us up in our makeshift prison. At least we aren't put in chains.

The peacekeepers must have been working frantically to meet their end of the bargain. A few hours later Christine and I are collected from our cells by two men I don't recognise. They apologise but state they must lock us in handcuffs and ankle chains. We don't resist. There's nowhere for us to run.

We are taken outside where what must be the whole camp is lined up to see us. I see Nadia, Elena and Zoe among the crowd. Even my erstwhile enemy Marigold is lined up. But I don't see Cato, for which I'm grateful. I wouldn't be able to keep my composure if he was there. There is absolute silence as Christine and I are marched towards a waiting peacekeeper hovercraft. The Colonel steps forward as the peacekeepers prepare to take over custody of Christine and I. Just as the transfer takes place the whole camp suddenly comes to attention and salutes us.

"Just to let you know. The peacekeepers released over six hundred prisoners this morning. Your son Joshua is among them and is safe and well," says the Colonel to Christine before turning towards me. "Zoe thanks you for saving her father's life. She promises to do everything she can to set you free. Many others have promised to do likewise."

The news so many people are willing to help me is overwhelming. I can't stop my tears. Not that many people see them. The peacekeepers bundle us into their craft and lock us inside a wire cage. Less than a minute later we are airborne.

I perhaps foolishly assumed we would be taken to the peacekeeper headquarters in town, but the flight is much much longer than that trip would have taken. Christine looks at me as though she is about to apologise for getting me into this mess.

"Don't you dare apologise to me, Christine," I say. "I knew what I was doing and am prepared to pay the price for failure. Do you think the peacekeepers will honour their side of the agreement?"

"At first they will," replies Christine. "But over time they will reassert their authority. We have won a brief respite for the people, but unless they use that time wisely they will be worse off in the long run. As you say, we have failed."

Three hours later we land inside what looks like a fortress. We've no idea where we are. The air feels warm and dry, so I know it isn't anywhere near the Capitol. We are marched into a stark looking building where we are photographed, DNA tested and processed as new arrivals in what is clearly a maximum security prison. Christine and I are handed orange fluorescent overalls and made to change into them. A thick leather belt is fastened around our waists and our wrists attached to it by a short length of chain. Doing the basic tasks of washing and using the toilet is going to be difficult.

I'm separated from Christine and locked in a small cell fitted with nothing more than a metal bunk with a solid mattress and scratchy blanket. A small pot is left in the corner for my toilet. I settle down and try to gather my thoughts. I must prepare myself for my trial. I have faith in Cato and the others to do what they can to help me.

It's a long boring afternoon broken only by the arrival of a tray of food and a drink shoved through a hatch in the door in the evening. The restraints on my wrists are troublesome and completely unnecessary. I practise moving about to see what I can do, but soon realise it isn't much. I have to eat off my plate like a dog. I don't know what time the lights go out, but I'm suddenly thrown into darkness. Despite my predicament I manage to fall asleep.


	27. 4-7 Saturday

4.7: Saturday.

As historical events go, the trial of Christine Paylor and I for treason and murder must rank as a good contender for a 'moment that changed history' award. The trial's notoriety will not be because it was widely broadcast with eloquent lawyers arguing the finer points of law. Nor because two symbols of the peoples' resistance to tyranny were made to stand in chains listening to prosecutors portray us as monsters and agents of the Devil.

None of that occurred. Christine and my trial was a farce. The morning after we were arrested we were marched into a large basement room and told a special closed session of the Panem Supreme Court has tried us and found us guilty of all charges. No witnesses. No defence council. No right to speak in our own defence. No pleas for mercy. We are to be taken out into the prison yard this evening and executed by firing squad.

"I'm pregnant. Are you going to kill my baby?" I scream at the official I assume is the man in charge.

"You should have thought about that before you engaged in treason. There is no mercy granted to traitors," snarls the man. "Take her away."

I snatch a look at Christine as she is hauled away through another door back to her cell.

"God protect you Katniss!" she cries. "Strength and honour!"

Her outburst earns her a severe crack across her head and she may even be unconscious as two burly prison guards drag her away. One of my prison guards looks as though he would like to do the same to me should I repeat Christine's outburst. What does it matter. They're going to kill me anyway.

"Strength and honour! The people will remember you Chr … Ow!"

Everything goes dark. It must be hours before I regain consciousness. I'm back in my cell. The light is still on and a food tray lies by the door. From the temperature of the stodge they call prison food, the tray must have been lying there for some time. I do my best to rub the side of my face where I was hit but my shackles make it impossible for me reach. The side of my face is sore, but it doesn't feel as if anything is broken. I lie down on my bed and weep for my baby. My own foolishness has cost my child's life. I should have tried to make a run for it as Cato wanted, even though I knew our chances of getting clear of Beacon Hill were negligible. I never thought for a minute the rulers of Panem had sunk so low as to take an unborn baby's life.

Several hours later there is activity outside my door and I realise the time of my execution has arrived. The door opens and the two prison guards take me into the yard. I don't resist. What's the point. Better to get this over with quickly.

There are a dozen armed men in prison uniforms lined up in the yard. A cameraman is there, presumably televising the event. I've no idea whether the broadcast will be live, or edited and transmitted later. There is also a group of important looking officials, including two army officers, watching as well. Christine is already standing against a solid brick wall facing the armed men. I assume they intend to stand me beside her, but my escort holds me back.

I cannot describe the horror of witnessing what happened next. Mercifully it was quick and I doubt Christine felt more than an instant of pain. At least in death the guards treat her body with respect and she is placed into a waiting coffin. I'm beside myself with fear. In a few moments I know I will be placed in the empty coffin beside hers.

"You've killed your last hope of saving yourselves," I bluster without thinking what I'm saying in my grief. "The ARIE will destroy you all as easily as it destroyed the peacekeepers communication system!"

I'm dragged towards the wall. Suddenly I've found the power to resist. Christine died standing firm like a martyr believing a better life awaits her in heaven. I've never been religious, so I'm less certain of my welcome in the afterlife, assuming one exists. I may not be able to do anything about what is about to happen but I intend to make sure everyone here knows my opinion on the subject.

"Stop!" commands one of the army officers. The prison guards hesitate. I don't know why the army has sent officers here. It's not a military matter. The prison guards are also uncertain about the army officer's right to intervene. Both officers walk over towards me.

"What do you know about the ARIE. What did it do to the peacekeepers communication system?"

"I'm not saying anything. Get on with shooting me and murdering my baby." I spit in the officer's eye.

"What if we were to offer you a delay in your execution until after your baby is born?" says the officer wiping his face dry. "I emphasise I'm only offering a delay, not a reduced sentence."

It's the only thing the officer could have said that makes me stop my struggle. If he had offered me freedom I would have known it is a trick. But this way at least my baby gets a chance of life.

"What do I have to do in exchange for my baby's life?"

"Be our guest at Fort Centennial and answer a few simple questions about what you know of the ARIE."

"Are you planning on torturing me?" I ask. "If so, I think I'd rather end it here and now."

"No torture. To be honest, information gained by torture is rarely of any use. Far better the prisoner cooperates."

"And what happens to my baby after he or she is born? Will you give him or her to the baby's father, Cato?"

"I see no reason why not," replies the officer. "The army has no use for an infant and the orphanages are usually full."

"OK. We have a deal. Now what?"

I'm left standing against the wall for over an hour as everyone works on the necessary paperwork to delay my execution and transfer me into the army's custody. Eventually the two army officers return and escort me to the army hovercraft I saw arriving a short while ago.

Again I'm locked in an on-board cage for the journey. Mercifully it is a shorter journey than before. As they march me out of the craft I see a well-lit sign proclaiming this place to be Fort Centennial. If all goes to plan, this will be my prison for the next two or three months. I'm taken to a room inside a wooden hut similar to those at Beacon Hill. The room is small but comfortable and has decent furniture and facilities. I'm even allowed limited access to a computer, although I'm blocked from reaching anywhere outside Fort Centennial. My room may have curtains at the windows, but the locked door and solid steel bars over the window confirm it is still a prison cell.

I lie on my bed and my built up emotions from today finally overwhelm me. I weep and curse and do all sorts of things I will have no recollection of doing in the morning. A short while later the lights dim but don't go out completely. It's dark enough to sleep but not pitch black like in the last prison.

I struggle to sleep. Not surprising given the horrors I've witnessed today. But after a while I begin to think more clearly. My intuition tells me the farce of our trial and Christine's death will not be forgotten by the people. Perhaps her father will now throw all his considerable resources into supporting the people in a rebellion. Perhaps the people will remember how Christine sacrificed her life for them and stiffen their resolve not to fail a second time.

[end of episode 4]


	28. 5-1 A visit from Cato

Episode 5: Fort Centennial.

5.1: A visit from Cato.

After a few days in the army's custody I've become accustomed to the rules. I'm only allowed out of my room for my daily exercise and when the army wishes to interrogate me. When I leave my room I'm always placed in shackles and escorted by two soldiers. However, apart from the lack of freedom, I have no real complaints about my treatment. I'm even allowed to wear normal clothes … at least what passes for normal in the army.

The interrogation about my knowledge of ARIEs begins on the second day but ceases after only three one-hour sessions. It was all very low key and I think the army experts believe I know nothing more than what I overheard at the end of the 74th Hunger Games. I've been careful to reinforce that impression. Apparently my assertion that the peacekeepers' communications network was crippled is strenuously denied by the peacekeepers. They claim a faulty piece of computer hardware was to blame for a ten minute outage affecting a very small part of their network. I know they are lying but the army experts don't, and the army experts are more inclined to believe the peacekeepers than me.

When I realise the army doesn't intend to interrogate me any further I begin to worry that they will renege on their promise to delay my execution until after my baby is born. Fortunately it seems Major Ford, the army officer in charge of me, has no desire to murder an innocent baby. However, he makes it clear my execution will be brought forward if I don't behave myself or if I do anything foolish like trying to escape. I begin to relax and by the start of the second week here I've adjusted to the daily routine.

I'm not allowed access to any source of news about what is happening elsewhere in Panem, but snippets of information nevertheless manage to reach me from time to time. There is genuine outrage across Panem at the mockery of Christine and my trial, and Christine's hasty execution. I think some of the politicians in the Capitol realise they have blundered, but there is no way they can reverse their mistake. My deferred execution is still to occur once my baby is born and only a presidential pardon can prevent it. I don't delude myself into thinking President Snow is ever likely to do that.

Towards the end of the second week I receive a letter from Cato. It is heavily censored and barely enough left of it to be readable. But the realisation Cato knows where I am fills me with a new wave of hope. I ask my gaoler for paper and a pen to write to Cato and to my surprise my request is granted. I'm careful what I say since I know my letter will be censored and I don't want Cato to be left with a few meaningless sentences.

I decide to use my ample spare time to exercise and keep my body in good shape. It's something the army is happy to accommodate. The computer in my room has a few training programs and educational courses which I try out. Dressmaking has never appealed to me before but I find after a while I'm designing clothes that Cato might like to see me wearing. Not that I could make any of them even if I had the material and equipment.

The arrival of a second letter from Cato a few days later causes my heart to miss a beat. He has been granted permission to visit me here. He can even stay overnight. I can't believe it and I suspect it might be a trick of some kind. Nevertheless I spend the next few days preparing myself and my room. I'm so excited.

The day scheduled for Cato's visit finally arrives. I'm taken to Major Ford's office straight after breakfast.

"Prisoner Everdeen," begins the Major. "As you are aware your baby's father has been granted the right to visit you and he will arrive today. The possibility of further visits depends on your cooperation and good behaviour."

"What do you mean?" I ask, mystified at the Major's words. He reaches for a document in his desk drawer and reads what written on it.

"This is an order made by the Chief of Justice. In exchange for visitation privileges, you are both required to give a television interview tomorrow morning and, if ordered, at any other time the Chief of Justice requires. At each interview you will make it clear that you are well treated here and are grateful for the delay in your execution. If asked, you must say that you accept your trial and sentence as fair and just and that you are repentant for your treasonous and murderous activities. Is that clear? Do you accept the Chief of Justice's conditions?"

I'm at a loss for words. I knew Cato's visit was too good to be true. I've no problem saying I'm well treated and grateful for the delay in my execution, but the rest of the conditions are grossly unfair. If I was a stronger person I would tell the Major where to shove the Chief of Justice's conditions; but I'm not. I have less than three months left to live and want to see Cato as often as possible in that time. If I must spin a fairy tale to make that happen, then I will swallow my pride and do it.

"I understand and accept," I reply.

"Very well. Cato is waiting for you in your room."

I'm escorted back to my room to find Cato waiting. My escort releases from my shackles and is barely out of the room before I'm wrapped in Cato's arms. There are many things I want to say to Cato but for the moment I'm speechless. There's a lot of kissing and caressing which progressively get more passionate. Before long we are on the bed and days of pent up desire is explosively released. I lose track of time and it must be well into the afternoon before we stop our lovemaking and talk.

"Have you been told about the conditions attached to your visit?" I ask. We both know this room may be bugged and our conversation recorded.

"Yes. I'm not happy about agreeing to them but it was either that or not see you. Nadia provided some helpful hints about handling the television interview."

"I'm sorry," I say, burying my head in Cato's shoulder.

"Sorry for what?" asks Cato.

"For turning myself in instead of running away with you."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You made the right choice. Had we had tried to escape from Beacon Hill we would have run straight into a company of peacekeepers under orders to shoot you and Christine Paylor on sight. We would both be dead if we had gone with my suggestion."

We share a kiss to show each other the subject is now closed and our disagreement is forgotten.

"How are Nadia, Elena, Zoe and the others?" I ask.

"Nadia is fine although she seems a little distracted a lot of the time. Stefan has been helping her with some sort of project. I haven't seen much of Elena after she started her officer training, although I gather she's doing very well. Only half of the entrants last beyond the first week and only one in five pass the two month course. Elena's currently in the top group. Zoe is coming to grips with her inheritance. Her new found wealth is helping with the recovery."

"Has Zoe come into some money?" I ask.

"Of course, you won't know. It seems that when she was sixteen, Zoe's grandmother ran off with the Colonel against her father's wishes. Her father was a very wealthy man and later disinherited Zoe's grandmother in favour of her daughter … Zoe's mother. After her mother's death, Zoe is the heiress to substantial fortune which she is now old enough to claim. Some of her wealth is paying for my trips here."

"Then you must thank Zoe on my behalf. How has the Colonel taken the news of Christine's death."

"Like any father who sees his daughter publicly executed the day after she was arrested. He has since mastered his fury and has spent the last few days planning his response to the outrage. His first change was to send that obnoxious fool Horace back to his own family. Nadia is the Colonel's new personal assistant."

We haven't stopped our intimate caresses while we have been talking but I sense Cato's reluctance to go beyond anything gentle. It's a though he is scared of hurting me.

"Cato! I'm still the same girl I was at Beacon Hill. If you are going to treat me as though I'm fragile we are going to lose the best of what little time we have left together."

"I'm sorry," he replies. "I can't help admire how stoically you are taking all this. I don't think I could be as brave as you if our situations were reversed."

"I think you would. I've come to terms with my fate. I knew the penalty for killing the peacekeeper when I let fly with that arrow. But I would do exactly the same if I had to do it over again. Zoe, Jessie and I would already be dead if I hadn't done what I did."

"I know. I don't think your harsh punishment has anything to do with the death of the peacekeeper. President Snow wants to make an example of you after you became a symbol of the resistance to his rule. From what the Colonel tells me, President Snow is furious the army delayed your execution, but he seems reluctant to overrule the army generals. I think that's the purpose of the television interview; to destroy your image in the eyes of the people and portray you as nothing but a savage criminal who deserves to die."


	29. 5-2 Cato's promise

5.2: Cato's Promise.

"Then we must be careful what we say in front of the camera," I reply. "Now prove to me I'm still the girl of your dreams."

Months ago Cato joked to me that seeing me barefoot, pregnant and in trouble with the law would bring out all the dominant-male traits of his personality. I remind him that I am lying next to him in exactly that condition. He understands my meaning and finally overcomes his hesitance. We play our special games together as we have done many times before. It allows me time to forget about the death sentence hanging over my head which, despite my pretence to the contrary, is something which gives me sleepless nights.

After breakfast I'm collected for my morning exercise. Army routine doesn't stop simply because a television interview is scheduled at ten o'clock. Cato is allowed to come with me. The realisation that Cato can come and go more or less as he pleases, and free of shackles, gives me a sudden pang of despair. I thought I had come to terms with my lot, but seeing Cato move about freely, while I can't, does terrible things to my morale. While Cato and I happily play with restraints during our lovemaking, this is different. For some reason I feel ashamed and humiliated at Cato seeing me locked in shackles another person has put on me. I try to hide my feelings but Cato is highly attuned to my moods and senses something is wrong.

"I have something I need to do before the interview," says Cato. "Would you mind if I skipped watching your exercise time? I'll meet you back in your room."

I nearly weep for joy at Cato's perceptiveness and readily agree to his request. He might not know exactly why my mood has suddenly changed, but he's sensitive enough to know it has something to do with him seeing me in these shackles. I slowly recover from my despondency as I go through my daily exercise routine. An hour later I'm returned to my room where Cato is waiting. We have an hour to ourselves before the television interview.

As soon as we are alone I tell him the reason for my despondency. He listens quietly before simply saying he needs to talk with the duty sergeant. Cato promptly knocks on the door so he can be let out. My immediate reaction is shock at his insensitivity. Here I am telling him about how I feel about him having freedom of movement while I'm treated like a dangerous animal, and he underscores the very issue by walking out of the room. I can't stop my tears from flowing.

Cato returns ten minutes later and comes over to comfort me. I'm torn between accepting his comforting arms and telling him what I think of his insensitive action. The comforting arms option wins and Cato finds he has a blubbering mess on his hands.

We should have been rehearsing what we intend to say during the interview, but we hardly speak during the next half hour. I've regained my composure by the time we need to leave for the interview. I start to panic when I realise this will be another journey with me in chains while Cato walks unrestrained beside me. The usual two man escort arrives but neither makes any effort to shackle me.

"I've made the sergeant a promise," explains Cato. "While I'm here I will be personally responsible for your good behaviour while you are out of your room. I'm afraid army regulations insist a prisoner is restrained in some way while under escort, but the sergeant allows you to choose the form of that restraint."

I look at the collection of restraints the escort has brought with them. I choose something Cato and I have played with before and Cato locks it place. The metal cuff on my wrist still makes me feel like the prisoner I am, but there's a whole world of difference in believing I'm Cato's prisoner for the moment. A length of light chain is clipped to my cuff and Cato takes hold of the other end. We walk hand in hand so that anybody seeing me won't realise I'm on a leash.

We reach the building where the television interview is to take place and Cato wastes no time in detaching the chain. I hug and kiss him in gratitude for what he has done. We are taken to the makeshift studio and invited to sit down on a settee in front of the cameras. There's a lot of activity but no sign of the interviewer. This is clearly not going to be a live broadcast, so anything we say that might be controversial will be edited out before transmission. Finally an interviewer I don't recognise enters and sits in the chair next to us. I try to gauge his mood and what line he may take with his questions. He seems very nervous but I can't tell whether that is due to inexperience or the thought of interviewing such a notorious criminal.

"I don't bite," I say to him trying to ease the tension. As an ice-breaker my attempt at humour fails miserably. The activity around us gradually settles and I sense we are about begin. The lights dim and a display behind us lights up proclaiming this to be the Caesar Flickerman Show. Only there's no sign of Caesar Flickerman.

"Plan C", whispers Cato so only I can hear.

Thanks to Nadia's hard work in an impossibly short time, we have three plans for how Cato and I will handle the interview, depending on the setting. Plan C anticipates our answers to questions will be heavily edited and attached to a different set of questions recorded by Caesar Flickerman. So we don't answer any question with a simple yes or no, and we repeat the question within our answers. And we fidget about so any break in our original answer will be noticeable to the viewers. It should give the editors a serious headache.

The interviewer begins with a fairly bland set of questions, clearly designed to encourage us to give one or two word answers. Trickier questions follow which require more complex answers. After an hour and a half the interviewer completes his questions and simply gets up and leaves. I look at Cato and his ready kiss tells me he thinks we have done well. I don't doubt the editors will salvage something usable from the recordings but not enough for a complete show.

Cato escorts me back my room and all too soon his allotted visiting time is over. I'm once again left alone but I'm in better spirits and the prospect of further visits keeps me sane.

For the next eight weeks our routine is the same. Cato visits twice a week and is allowed to stay for one night each time. We resolve the issue about my shackles to both the army and my satisfaction. Cato provides a solid steel bracelet which he locks onto my right wrist. It's a snug enough fit to make it impossible for me to slide it off, but it is light enough to be comfortable. A small ring welded to it enables a chain to be clipped on, effectively putting me on a lead. Even when Cato isn't here the army guards don't restrain me more than using the wrist lead.

I'm rapidly approaching full term with my pregnancy. The army doctors check me once a week and announce everything is progressing well. Which of course means my pending execution is approaching as well. While I will never be able to call Major Ford, Sergeant Taylor or any of my guards my friends, they have all been very professional and have treated me no harsher than the situation requires. I suspect Major Ford has stuck his neck out by allowing me at least 24 hours with my baby after the birth. My execution is to occur at dawn on the second day after the birth. I try my best not to let my fear cause problems for my baby. They say babies in the womb can be sensitive to the moods of their mother and I do my best to keep my spirits up. Something which I increasingly need Cato's presence to achieve.

During the eight week period, Cato and I are required to undertake two more television interviews, which follow the same pattern as the first. Cato arrives one morning and tells me our interview is to be shown today in a special broadcast of the Caesar Flickerman Show. We request permission for me to watch it and Major Ford says I may. Shortly before the scheduled broadcast, Cato and I are taken to the recreation hut where we join about thirty off duty personnel eager to watch the show as well. The show starts with the usual razzmatazz. From the early shots you would think Cato and I were there in the studio. The film editors have done a very slick job, reminiscent of the virtual worlds created at Le Chat Noir.

Ceasar Flickerman makes an opening speech and it soon becomes apparent this whole interview is going to be a put-up job to discredit Christine and I in the eyes of everyone in Panem. I ready myself for the worst. The camera pans around the audience and to my surprise I see Nadia's sister, Ariadne, sat in the front row of the audience. And on the side of the set is the box Sarah and the army experts believe is the ARIE. Suddenly it dawns on me that this isn't an edited version of our interview … its a completely fabricated virtual scene that those in charge are playing out before a studio audience and the television viewers. They probably didn't have enough usable material from our interviews and have had to resort to creating a virtual reality scenario.

Cato and I have scored a victory of sorts, but all to no avail.


	30. 5-3 Saboteur

5.3: Saboteur.

As we wait for the fake show to begin, I step through some facts that I've picked up over the last nine months about virtual worlds and biological supercomputers. One; an ARIE … Ariadne in this case … controls the virtual scenario. Two; activating an ARIE's sigma keys will seize control of the ARIE. Three; a suitable daemon can convey orders to the ARIE. Four; the black cat is a daemon which interacts with Ariadne. Five; I can control the black cat.

To the studio audience and television viewer alike, the first indication something odd is happening with Caesar Flickerman's show is when a black cat walks onto the stage and promptly sits on the lap of the fake Katniss. Caesar loses his normal smooth patter when the cat starts hissing at him. The audience starts laughing, as do several soldiers sat watching the television with Cato and I. But what the cat is doing is simply a distraction. My real effort … and I hope I've remembered Nadia's teaching correctly … is channelled through the cat towards Ariadne.

"Ariadne. Activate your sigma keys," I silently command. "I wish to change the virtual scenario."

I've no way of knowing if this is working until the picture on the television screen freezes.

"Ariadne. Locate and transmit pictures of Christine Paylor," I send through the cat I can no longer see but assume is still linked to my mind. "Set to loop the pictures indefinitely and display them instead of the interview scenario. Deactivate your sigma keys."

I've never practised doing that, but Nadia managed to cram in a lot of instruction about managing ARIEs into the short time before I was arrested. Pictures of Christine Paylor appear on the screen one after the other. That part of my first attempt at controlling an ARIE seems to have worked. If I've done it correctly my order to deactivate her sigma keys has released Ariadne from the mental hold I had over her. After a while the television transmission stops and the screen goes blank. Cato bursts out laughing.

"Ha ha ha! Serves them right!" laughs Cato. "There's obviously someone inside the television network who's a brilliant saboteur."

"Perhaps it was the black cat," I say. Several of the off-duty army personnel in the room laugh at my apparent joke. Cato just goes very still.

Any conversation about what I just managed to do would be foolish in this place. Cato knows I created the black cat we saw in the 74th Hunger Games arena. He's smart enough to work out the rest of the details himself. If not, then I'm sure Nadia will be able to explain it to him when he returns to Beacon Hill.

We return to my room and ready ourselves for bed. A regrettable consequence of my rapidly expanding belly is our private games need to be toned down. But we are quite inventive and have found alternatives. Cato delights in telling me what is written in the ornate book that Zoe's grandmother translated. The book's title 'Journal of the Harem-Keeper of Prince Ahmed's Harem' gives a clue about its contents. Apparently the mysterious Prince Ahmed kept about twenty young women in his harem. Each day would order one or more of them to be prepared in a particular way for his pleasure. The journal records the various preparations required to meet the prince's requirements. It's a bit like a cook book, except it is a young woman who is served up rather than a meal. The prince seems to have been a very inventive man when it comes to such matters.

"Perhaps I should have you covered in whipped cream so I can lick it off you," teases Cato.

"That's surely not your favourite of the preparations in the book. You would be sick as a dog before you got half way," I laugh.

Cato tells me his favourite and I promise to be ready in the prescribed manner when he next visits.

"Do you have a favourite?" asks Cato.

"Unlike you I haven't studied them all, so I don't have a favourite at the moment. Besides, this is a man's view of how a woman should be prepared for connubial bliss. A woman would be able to do much better."

"That sounds like a challenge. Very well, you are on. You write up the recipe and I'll keep it with the book for when we need it."

It's all pretence of course. Pretence that there is a future for us when we can play our games. I go quiet and Cato realises I'm getting nervous about the rapidly approaching end to our relationship.

"Will you do me one favour before I leave tomorrow?" he asks.

"Sure. What favour do you want?"

"Marry me. All legal and in our real names."

"Oh Cato!" I cry. "Of course I'll marry you. Will Major Ford allow it though? Don't we have to wait for all the paperwork and consents before we can marry? It could take longer than we have left to us."

"I've a confession to make. I started the application and paperwork several weeks ago. The consents arrived here today. I didn't want to say anything before in case the consents were refused or delayed. Since then I've just been trying to pluck up the courage to ask you."

"My brave hero is afraid of asking me a question when he must surely know my answer."

"I don't take you for granted, Katniss. Besides, I wasn't so sure you'd approve of what I've done."

"Why? What have you done?"

"When a couple marry, it is usual for the bride to adopt her husband's family name. But that's tradition rather than a requirement of the law. I want the name Katniss Everdeen to stand a chance of living on after you are taken from me. If our baby is a girl, I want us to call her Katniss. When we marry I will take Everdeen as our family name."

"Oh Cato!" I cry again. I can't manage to say anything more and sink into his welcoming arms. I stay like that for over an hour. I agree to his proposal on condition that if our baby is a girl, we call her Katniss Christine Everdeen in memory of Christine Paylor.

The next morning Cato makes the arrangements for our wedding. He has to settle for Sergeant Taylor for a best man, and I a young army nurse for a bridesmaid. The army chaplain marries us in my room … it was that or be married with a chain attached to my bracelet. The ceremony is a quiet affair and the army staff do their best to make it a pleasant one. I'm not the only one who isn't looking forward to what must occur sometime in the next two or three weeks. The army seems incapable of changing plans at short notice so the bride and groom are only allowed a couple of hours to consummate their marriage.

"You are really attractive when you are pregnant, Katniss," says Cato. "I must remember to keep you this way as often as possible."

Another pretence, but one I'm prepared to play along with. "Oh really? And how many children do you intend to sire on me, my noble husband?"

"A dozen. Perhaps more," he replies without hesitation.

"Then I suppose it's a good job I've come through this pregnancy with very little difficulty."

After being with the women at Beacon Hill, the prospect of bearing more children doesn't worry me as once it might. Of course it is easy to think that knowing that I won't actually be required to do it.

All too soon it is time for Cato to leave. Alone again, I set about writing letters and adding to my journal. I started the journal weeks ago. My legacy for my child which hopefully he or she will treasure since I will not be there to pass on my memories and advice in person.


	31. 5-4 Labour pains

5.4: Labour pains.

Cato returns to Fort Centennial four days later with good news. The army has agreed he may stay with me until after the birth of our child. What they really mean is until my execution but are considerate enough not to phrase it that way. I keep my promise to Cato and as soon as we are alone I prepare myself in the manner described in Cato's book. I have to improvise a bit since I don't have access to all the necessary items but Cato doesn't seem to mind. Seeing his reaction makes me wish we had discovered the contents of the book much earlier. When we have slated our initial desires we lie quietly in each others arms.

"So what is happening at Beacon Hill?" I ask.

"A lot of activity. Nadia filled me in on the details about what happened with the black cat. She promptly started on some new project with Stefan. Apparently you can help. She wants you to tell Stefan to run a marathon. I think she was joking. I can't imagine Stefan being able to complete a marathon. Besides, why wouldn't she tell Stefan herself."

"Because she can't," I reply, realising 'marathon' is a code name for a prepared set of orders for Nadia to do something involving the use of her sigma keys. Something she's prevented from initiating herself. "I'll give it some thought. Now, what news of Elena and Zoe?"

"Zoe has moved back into town with her father. Their house, like ours, was ransacked by the peacekeepers and has taken some time to repair. Elena graduated from her training course in top place. If she was actually enlisted in the military she would be a lieutenant now. The Colonel has awarded her the honorary rank of commander."

"Commander Paylor. It has a nice ring to it. Please congratulate Elena for me. Talking about our house, is it ready for you to take our child to after … after …". I can't finish. I can't say 'after I'm dead'.

"After the birth," Cato says swiftly when he sees my predicament. "No. The landlord has decided to demolish the block. There was too much damage to make it worthwhile repairing. The Colonel has offered me a job as a training instructor up at Beacon Hill. A job which provides living quarters for the Everdeen family."

"I bet there are several girls from hut six who will be delighted at that news."

"Possibly. But they will be disappointed. No one will ever replace you in my heart … or my bed."

"Don't promise that, Cato. You are still young. In time you will meet someone else and I don't want you to live like a hermit. Our child will need brothers and sisters. I'd give you those myself if I could, but that's not going to be possible."

Tears. Lot's of tears. My tears. Cato's tears. Neither of us can pretend any more. I'm going to be executed very soon and I just can't hide my fear and despair any longer. I lose track of time. Meals arrive and are left untouched. Cato only leaves my side briefly to fetch something to clean me up. I'm a total mess. What a fine welcome for Cato.

After a while I've cried all the tears I seem able to produce. It is times like this when I struggle to keep the promise I made to Cato when I was first brought here. I promised I would be a model prisoner and not place myself or our child at additional risk. After my near-fatal experience when Christine was executed, I don't doubt the penalty for misbehaviour. I have placed my trust in Cato and my friends to do what they can to save me even though it is an impossible task. Cato seems to have composed himself. I try to do the same and succeed to some degree.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I should be stronger. If only for our baby's sake."

"You are strong, Katniss. But even the strong can have their moments of weakness. We seem to have a visitor."

Cato points to a new arrival in our room. A black cat. The black cat. What does this signify?

"Was there anything unusual happening when you arrived?" I ask.

"I don't know about unusual, but there was a small convoy of vehicles outside the unused building near where they take you for your daily exercises," replies Cato.

"Ariadne has arrived. Possibly Sarah and some of the others from Le Chat Noir as well. The army must have given up trying to solve the mystery of the box of tricks they stole. They must have called in some of Sarah's team to help build the virtual arena for the 75th Hunger Games," I whisper into Cato's ear. Our conversations are almost certainly monitored and letting on we know about the creation of a virtual arena for the 75th Hunger Games is dangerous. Not for me, of course, but for Cato.

"Hmmm … you could be right. The announcement about the special conditions attached to the 75th Hunger Games are due to be broadcast next week. There's a lot of speculation that it will be something out of the ordinary but nobody knows what."

"The head Gamemaker will know. Constructing an arena takes over a year these days. He will have taken a sneak look at what is proposed so he can start the construction. President Snow will also know. He may even have ordered a change to the proposed details."

"Let someone else worry about that," replies Cato, gently caressing me to ease my tension. His actions achieve their aim. Before long we are kissing and making love. A gentle form of togetherness rather than the rough and tumble we usually prefer. It's exactly what I need.

The next couple of days pass in a blur. For the most part it is simply being each other's company that keeps us from sinking back into despair. I don't think we've been so intimate for such a long uninterrupted period before. I wish it could continue forever.

It's mid-afternoon and Cato and I are lying together on my bed. Suddenly I feel as though I've had an accident and wet the bed. I sit up and realise my waters have broken. It's time!

"Cato. The baby's about to arrive." I say. The dozing Cato becomes alert in an instant. He notifies the guard outside our door, as he has been instructed to do. We've been given very precise instructions on what to do once my time arrives. I'm not certain what other options the army thinks we would contemplate, but the birthing is to be attended by qualified medics. I can only think they don't want to risk me dying while giving birth and thereby depriving them of the opportunity of executing me a day or so later. I'll never understand the way the military think.

For the most part my pregnancy has been relatively trouble free despite all the perils and stresses I've gone through. Having never given birth before I'm not really prepared for the painful process. Cato does his best to comfort me and I don't really mean to snap his head off. I think at one stage I tell him that he can do this part next time.

As I lie resting in between contractions I suddenly remember I didn't do as Nadia asked and tell Stefan to run a marathon. For the sake of doing something other than lie here waiting for the next contraction I try to link to Stefan and pass the message. As usual, I've no idea if I succeed. The link only seems to work in one direction. I repeat the attempt just in case. I'm deciding whether to try a third attempt when my next contraction starts. I've more immediate things on my mind after that.

At ten o'clock on that Thursday night my daughter, Katniss Christine, is born. Fine and healthy and a good weight. I'm so relieved. Cato is every bit the proud father and welcomes the new Katniss Everdeen into the world.

For the moment I don't dwell on the fact that her arrival means the old Katniss Everdeen is to be executed at dawn on Saturday.


	32. 5-5 An appointment with death (1)

5.5: An Appointment with Death (1).

I'm exhausted and fall asleep as soon as I've finished welcoming my daughter into the world. At first I don't even wake when Cato places Katniss against my breast for her first feed. But it is impossible for me to ignore her presence and despite being tired I take over my motherly duty. She feeds well and I hand her to back to her proud father to clean her up and lay her in the crib the army has produced from somewhere.

The army medic looks in on me shortly after breakfast and checks us both. Baby Katniss is weighed and checked for defects before being pronounced perfect. It seems I've come through the birth in good shape and should fully recover in a few days … except I don't have a few days.

I'm taken in a wheelchair to Major Ford's office where I'm told what I already guessed. There will be no presidential pardon and my execution will occur at dawn tomorrow here at Fort Centennial. I try my best to put tomorrow out of my mind and make the one and only day the Everdeen family is allowed to be together a memorable one. Cato plays his part admirably and I couldn't wish for a better companion.

I give Cato the journal I have prepared over the last few weeks. A mother's memories and words of advice to her daughter for when Katniss is older. I give a second journal to Cato. Something tangible for him to remember how I feel about him. You could call them love letters, but until now they have never left my custody. Of course, enclosed with Cato's journal is my response to the bet we placed. A short recipe on how a woman should be properly prepared for her man's pleasure. I make him promise not to read it until he has returned to Beacon Hill. I've included a few sketches of the clothes I designed. Special clothes for Cato's private viewing.

I complete my formal preparations by handing him personal letters to Zoe, Elena, Nadia and my sister Prim, with whom I've exchanged a few letters since my arrest. With that done I try to focus on spending what time I have left in the comforts of my family.

To some extent our timetable is governed by our daughter's sleep cycles. Although I'm still weak from the birth I manage to spend an hour or so playing with Cato. Nothing too physical but pleasurable nonetheless.

The black cat joins us for a while. He looks melancholy. It occurs to me that when I'm gone the black cat and Stefan may no longer exist. Nadia never told me what happens should the daemons' creator die. Perhaps a bit of me will continue to exist through my two daemons.

"Do you think the guards will allow us to take a family walk," I ask, wanting to get out of my room for just a short while and enjoy the spring air.

"I'll ask," says Cato. "After all, they didn't collect you for your exercise time this morning."

Sergeant Taylor agrees providing Cato attaches the wrist chain to my bracelet. It's an absurd requirement in the circumstances, but army regulations are army regulations. Cato makes a makeshift sling for young Katniss and fetches a wheelchair for me. I say I'd prefer to try and walk, but to bring the chair in case the exercise proves too much for me.

We are restricted to the grassy area between my room and the exercise yard. It's not a large area, but big enough for our walk. Our walk takes us near the previously empty building where Cato said there was activity when he arrived here. Sure enough there are people moving in an out of the building and the sound of activity going on inside. There are sentries at the door checking the identification tags of people trying to enter. I catch sight of someone I recognise.

"Sarah!" I call and wave to her. She sees me and after her initial shock comes over to talk to me. The two soldiers who are my official escort quickly catch up to us and place themselves between Sarah and I.

"I didn't know you were here, Katniss. I would have visited you," calls Sarah as my guards guide her away from me.

"That's OK. As you can see, I'm not allowed to talk to anyone without army approval," I reply. I have probably lost my right to walk about free of all but the token wrist restraint, but I've reached the stage where I'm beyond caring. However, the soldiers don't take any further action against me and resume their usual position about ten metres behind Cato and I.

Cato, Katniss and I sit on a grassy bank and take in the view. It's not much of a view but it's better than staring at the walls inside my room. We enjoy the warm sunlight … it's probably the last time I'll feel the sun's warmth on my skin but I no longer get depressed at the thought. A strange calmness has come over me. But it isn't allowed to last for long. A loudspeaker broadcast across the whole camp announces that everyone in the camp must report to their respective recreation rooms to watch a live television broadcast from the Capitol. Despite the proscription barring me from being given access to news, it seems I'm to be included in the audience. My two guards escort Cato, young Katniss and I to the nearest recreation room. It's the same room where Cato and I watched our fake interview with Caesar Flickerman.

Fortunately young Katniss is still sound asleep as everyone settles down to watch the broadcast. At exactly three o'clock the television broadcast begins. To everyone's surprise it is the announcement of the special conditions for the 75th Hunger Games … the third Quarter Quell. For some unknown reason the announcement has been moved from next week to today. The process is the same each year, although viewing is not normally mandatory. It's probably because it is the Quarter Quell that makes this announcement special. As always, the head Gamemaker unlocks the drawer in the huge cabinet holding the instructions for this year's Hunger Games. The instructions for the first one hundred Hunger Games were specified all those years ago and stored in a special cabinet. The head Gamemaker hands the envelope containing the instructions to the Chief of Justice, who will verify the original seal is unbroken … it is, but he'll pretend otherwise … before opening and reading the instructions aloud to all of Panem. No one is supposed to know the contents of the envelope beforehand, although it is a poorly kept secret that the head Gamemaker is well aware of the contents … as is President Snow.

"Oh No! The Chief of Justice is going to make another marathon speech," says a soldier at the back of the room.

The Chief of Justice makes a long-winded speech which tries everyone's patience. Eventually he opens the envelope and reads the contents. The essential part of the contents states that … 'the tributes for the 75th Hunger Games shall be drawn from the pool of tributes who have previously entered and fought in a Hunger Games arena.'

Two things immediately hit me about what the Chief of Justice has just said. Firstly, the criteria means Cato may be called on to be the District Two male tribute. The second is the look of consternation on the head Gamemaker's face. What the Chief of Justice has just read out aloud was not what the head Gamemaker believed the envelope contained.

"The envelope has been switched," I say to Cato. "Look at the reaction of the Gamemakers. Someone has rigged the selection criteria to make sure you may be called as tribute for District Two. President Snow isn't content with killing me. He wants you as well."

"It's a clumsy way of going about it," replies Cato. "There are five District Two male victors alive, so my inclusion still only makes it a one in six chance I'll be reaped. Unless the draw is rigged of course."

The huddle of panicking Gamemakers behind the Chief of Justice are quickly moved off camera. The Chief of Justice drones on with his speech, completely unaware of what is occurring behind him. He concludes with the official words that mean nobody … not even President Snow … may alter the selection criteria of these Games. Short of cancelling the 75th Hunger Games, the Gamemakers must deliver the Games in the manner just prescribed by the Chief of Justice.

We return to my room. Cato does his best to reassure me that everything will be alright, but even he concedes the reaping draw could be rigged. Fortunately we can't dwell on the subject as young Katniss has woken and is eager for her next feed.

Once she has settled again Cato turns to me and we share a moment of intimacy. As hard as we try there is simply too much to worry about and we are forced back to reality.

"Who will be the female tribute from District Twelve?" asks Cato.

"Ha! That will give the Gamemakers a headache!" I reply. "No girl tribute from District Twelve has ever won a Hunger Games."

"So you are the only eligible candidate," says Cato.

"Not even I'm eligible. Even if by some miracle they wanted to delay my execution so I can be reaped for the 75th Hunger Games, I'm still not eligible. Nobody convicted of a crime punishable by death can be reaped. That rule was introduced after the 4th Hunger Games when the Districts started delaying executions and allowing condemned prisoners to volunteer as tributes in exchange for freedom. Not even a presidential pardon will get round that rule since a pardon only alters my sentence. I'd still be a felon convicted of a capital crime."


	33. 5-6 An appointment with death (2)

5.6: An Appointment with Death (2).

Cato concedes my point and we put the whole matter to one side and talk about other things.

"Did I tell you young Zoe has an admirer?" asks Cato. "One of her more distant cousins. He's about her age and is absolutely besotted with her. Every time she comes up to Beacon Hill, he's there to welcome her and try to attract her attention. But I'm not certain Zoe even notices him."

"Ha ha! Is he the one with fair hair and walks with a slight limp. I remember him from when I was at Beacon Hill."

"Yes. His leg has healed, so he doesn't limp any more, but you obviously know who I mean."

"He seemed a nice boy but probably a bit shy," I say. "If you see him, suggest that he gives Zoe a bunch of flowers. I suspect she will notice him after that."

Cato and my time together is rapidly running out. We spend the next few hours in almost constant contact with each other. We only separate when Katniss wakes and we expand our private cocoon to include her. I'm still tired from the birthing so I keep falling asleep off and on, despite knowing what the morning will bring.

Katniss wakes just before five in the morning for a feed. Cato is fast asleep and rather than wake him I take what will probably be my last opportunity to feed my daughter. She takes her time feeding and briefly falls asleep. After changing her I put her back in her crib and go back to lie next to Cato. Dawn can't be more than an hour away and I want my last moments to be spent close to Cato.

Cato wakes a short while later and we spend our time cuddling and looking into each eyes. Gradually the pre-dawn light brightens the room. We wait nervously for a knock at our door to say our time is up. About six o'clock we hear the dreaded knock and the sound of the door being unlocked. I steel my nerves and hope Cato will keep his promise. I know he would happily fight every soldier in Fort Centennial to defend me, but I can't risk him being arrested or worse. Our daughter will need her father.

The guards have come prepared in case either of us gives them any trouble. They are armed and order Cato to stand against the wall. I remind Cato of his promise not to cause any trouble. I'm doing my best to remain calm and face my death with dignity. I give Katniss and Cato my farewell kisses and allow the guards to place the full set of shackles on me. The shackles are unnecessary but the guards don't know that. Even though I'm petrified and barely in control of my actions, I have no intention of trying to escape and risking reprisals against Cato and our baby.

All too soon I'm escorted out of my cell. Cato's parting words 'Strength and honour, Katniss. I love you,' give me the added resolve to walk to my appointment with death with my head held high. Mercifully it is only a short walk as my legs soon start feeling like jelly. My show of bravery as I left my room was simply to ensure Cato didn't do anything rash and leave our baby an orphan.

Later

The overnight train bound for District Eight pulls out of the station on time at nine o'clock. The train stewards know Cato by sight even if they don't know the reason for his regular trips to Fort Centennial over the last few months. The presence of the baby, however, takes them by surprise. As does the reservation of a first class cabin rather than his usual second class berth. The steward checks if Cato requires anything before leaving him for the night. The day's events have taken their toll on Cato and he looks exhausted. If he were alone he would probably simply lie down and try to go to sleep. Even young Katniss is fretful, sensing something has changed. She starts crying for her mother.

"Shush, little one," says Cato gently rocking her in his arms. "I too wish your mother was here." After a while Katniss settles although Cato knows she will wake again in a couple of hours for her next feed. He hopes the arrangements made for Katniss's next feed are going to work. Attempts to feed her by bottle earlier today proved problematic and he's not looking forward to a repeat exercise.

The train accelerates and before long is travelling at full speed towards the Capitol where is will stop for a while before continuing its journey to District Eight. An hour later the train arrives in the Capitol where more passengers join the train. The stewards are surprised when a young woman passenger produces a ticket showing she has a reservation in the same cabin as Cato. A district girl doesn't normally travel first class. But from her low cut dress and the liberal application of perfume, she's obviously what the stewards refer to as a 'comfort girl'. A derogatory term describing a district girl who, in exchange for her fare home, will provide a wealthy traveller with some female companionship for the night. However, this one seems better dressed and her perfume more expensive than your run-of-the-mill comfort girl. The steward knocks on Cato's door and enquires whether he is expecting company. Cato's ready welcome confirms he is and the steward leaves, thinking Cato is one lucky man. The stewards may wonder why someone like Cato would be associating with a woman dressed in such a skimpy and provocative outfit, but they are experienced at minding their own business.

"All done?" asks Cato wrapping me in his arms.

"Yes. All criminal charges against me have been annulled and my sentence quashed," I reply waiving the official document bearing President Snow's personal seal. It's more than a presidential pardon … this completely wipes out my criminal record. "I'm free … at least until the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games."

My sudden and unexpected transfer to the Capitol this morning took me by complete surprise. I had expected to be taken to some enclosed compound inside Fort Centennial for my execution, but instead I was bundled into a waiting hovercraft. By eight o'clock I was face to face with President Snow himself. But it was nearly lunchtime before I could get to a telephone and let Cato know the good news. I've been given another three months of life … possibly longer. As I'm the only possible candidate for the District Twelve female tribute for the 75th Hunger Games, President Snow has had to swallow his pride and set me free. Not that my freedom was granted without a dose of sour grapes and several threats along the line of 'behave yourself or your family will suffer'. I would have been surprised had they not made their threats. Of course I know President Snow and the Gamemakers will do their best to ensure I don't survive the Games, but I'm not going to go down without a fight.

But this moment belongs to Cato and I. When I was set free I was left stranded in the Capitol without any money and only the clothes I was wearing. A deliberate ploy by the authorities to intimidate me. Fortunately one of the employees at Le Chat Noir knew me and allowed me to use their telephone to contact Cato. Another call to Zoe in District Eight soon had a source of funds at my disposal. Zoe insisted I treat myself to some clothes while I was in the Capitol and I set about acquiring what I needed for Cato's special treat. Me.

I resist the temptation to wake Katniss and hold her tight. She will wake soon enough. I'll let her sleep a while longer so I can firstly wallow in the delight of Cato's arms. Sure enough, Katniss wakes as the train departs and Cato and I enlarge our embrace to include her. The feel of her suckling on my breast breaks the last shred of control I hold over my emotions and I burst into tears of joy. Today has been one roller-coaster of traumatic events and I no longer feel in control of myself. Fortunately Cato is here to look after me and I happily place myself in his care.

A while later I'm still in Cato's arms, having only left them briefly to place Katniss back in her cot. The train is speeding through the night but neither Cato nor I feel ready for sleep. Cato studies the large shopping bags I brought on board with me.

"You seem to have made the most of your visit to the Capitol," he muses. "Did you buy anything for me?"

"It's all for you, my love," I reply, showing him the contents of one of the bags. I unwrap the package containing a lacy nightie, which I change into. It's identical to the one I wore in the Training Centre that night when Cato and I first met for our midnight swim. The significance isn't lost on Cato and we are soon lost in the throws of passion.

Of course there are several other items in my bags which he'll have to wait a few weeks to see. After the birth the army medic cautioned me against resuming normal sexual activity too soon. Not that I thought it would be an issue for me to bother about. When I've fully recovered I have several treats in store for the man I love. If he has read my contribution to the harem-keepers journal he will understand the significance of some of the items.

Cato and I simply enjoy each other's company as the train gradually brings us closer to District Eight and Beacon Hill. For the moment I am just thankful I've survived another day. Thoughts about the 75th Hunger Games are pushed to one side for the moment. A problem for another day.

[The end]

The story continues in **_Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Circumstances_** (Story ID 10712219)


	34. Preview of series 3

This series continues in _Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous Circumstances_ s/10712219/1/

An excerpt from **_Katniss and Cato: Love in Dangerous __Circumstances_**

I gently rub the scented oil over my skin, taking care to cover all the difficult to reach places. I've only myself to blame for having to go through these preparations once a week, although I hadn't expected to be doing so this week. I had a bet with Cato that I could describe how a young woman should be properly prepared for the delectation of her man. I boasted it would please him more than the numerous preparations described in the ornate book Zoe's grandmother translated for us. 'The Journal of the Harem-keeper of Prince Ahmed's Harem' has a new addition; written by yours truly, Katniss Everdeen. I won my bet.

Not that I mind doing this in the least. The effect on Cato is incredible and his reaction makes all my effort worthwhile.

…

Cato and I embrace and prepare for our private time. At Cato's insistence I repeat this morning's dance with the scarf. Only this time I must do so as prescribed in the Harem-keeper's Journal. Naked. I retrieve the blue scarf I keep with my clothes and begin my dance. I've done this several times before and it always has the desired effect on the beast. Tonight he is in the mood to demand I dance slowly and lewdly. I'm more than happy to comply, because this variation of my dance arouses me as much as it does Cato.

I'm almost exploding on the spot before Cato finally pulls me towards him and the beast goes to work on my willing body. Although Cato has controlled the events that have lead to this point, it is now my turn to take command of our union. After making me dance for ages, I'm determined to make him wait for fulfilment. When we first met I would never have dared do this, nor did I have the skill to do so, even if I dared. But now it is a different matter. I can sense Cato's desires and needs as easily as he can sense mine. We work together to ensure both of us enjoy our experience to the fullest.

Afterwards we lie in each other's arms. After the very physical play we have just enjoyed this moment of tenderness and togetherness is delightful. I fall asleep as Cato gently runs his hands up and down my back.


End file.
